The Song of Iluvatar
by Mia-philosephet
Summary: Legolas is about to come of age, and the life of this spoiled prince is at its best. However, things are about to change when a shocking betrayal thrusts him into a foreign world where everything he ever loved is locked forever beyond his grasp.
1. Prologue

The Song of Iluvatar

By Mia_philosephet

_A/N- Has anyone ever wondered why of all the great elf lords in Rivendell, Legolas was chosen to accompany the Nine Walkers? Why did Tolkien describe him as a "strange elf"? Why was a Mirkwood prince sent as a simple messenger to the Council of Rivendel? Basically, why is Legolas the way he is? This is my rather long explanation to these and a few other questions that caught my attention as I was thinking about the books. This is a pre-LOTR Legolas fic based on the books. I researched my information in the Appendixes, The Reader's Guide to Middle Earth, and my own imagination. I hope you enjoy. Please leave a review if you do. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. ^_^_

_Special thanks goes to my beta reader Larael who went above and beyond the call of duty to discover the proper capitalization for Orc. Bravo!_

_Summary: Legolas is about to come of age and the life of this spoiled prince is at its best. However, things are about to change when a shocking betrayal thrusts him into a foreign world where everything he ever loved is locked forever beyond his grasp._

Prologue:

The trees were weeping. The sound tore at Melian's heart as she stood gazing down across the shadow-cloaked forest from one of the many upper balconies protruding from the mountain palace. A gentle evening breeze played with the crown of spring flowers upon her honey-frosted hair in an attempt to cheer the sorrowing Elf. Greenwood's Queen, however, found no comfort tonight. Usually she would have danced with the wind, singing in harmony with the trees under the smiling light of the stars, but the trees had no song of joy this evening.

Being a Silvan Elf, Melian had always been in love with Arda, taking joy in nature more than anything else, especially the trees and flowers. So when a strange shadow suddenly appeared during an unusually harsh winter storm, Melian was the first to notice. Ever since, the Queen had steadily grown thin and pale, broken by the sorrow of the trees. Not even Thranduil could banish her distress. In great fear for his queen and kingdom, Thranduil ordered countless search parties to probe the vast expanse of Greenwood for the cause of this growing shadow. Spring had come, yet it brought no answers, while the Queen grew weaker and more despondent by the day.

Melian stood on the balcony, as she did every night, silver tears running down from her leaf green eyes. A small sniffle behind her drew her attention from the trees. Turning, she saw her baby son, barely able to walk, toddling toward her with tear stained cheeks.

"Oh, honey, what is the matter?" she asked tenderly, stooping to lift the distraught child up in her arms.

"The tees is sad, mama. And I can' sweep, 'cause they's cwyin'. Mama, you face is aw wet. Is you cwyin' too?" asked the baby, reaching with tiny fingers to touch his mother's cheek. Sky blue eyes looked up at her, wide and filled with worry. "Wha's wong, Mama? Why is evvybody cwyin'? I'm scayed."

"Oh, precious, you are too much like your mother for your own good," breathed the Queen, wishing with all her heart that her innocent young son had been spared from having to bear these troubled times.

"Sing a me, Mama. Sing an make da twees stop cwyin'. Jus' like you youse to, Mama," the babe pleaded, looking earnestly up at his mother.

Melian closed her eyes, unable to bear the expectant gaze of her son knowing his request was beyond her ability to give. Yet with a sigh and the barest hint of a smile, Melian gave in. Seating herself on the stone wall with her son in her lap, she began to sing. Sad was her song, filled with the sorrow invading her heart, yet a hint of hope slowly crept in - and determination. For as she held her infant son, the despondency that had held her captive so long lifted a bit, replaced by a determination to overcome this threat to her son and the woods they both loved.

Melian was still there, cradling the now slumbering babe and watching the sunrise when Thranduil found them. Melian relaxed into him as he wrapped his arms around her, leaning her head back against his chest. Finally, as the last vestiges of dawn faded into day, Thranduil leaned down, kissing his wife on the cheek and reaching to take the sleeping child.

"All will be well, my love. We will erase this menace. I swear it. I will not let our son grow up under this shadow," promised Thranduil, smiling down at the babe sleeping in his arms. However, his wife's reply arrested his attention.

"I swear it as well," replied Melian in a strange tone. The determined look in her eyes as she gazed up at him filled Thranduil with both joy and apprehension. "I want to go out with one of the scouting parties."

"What?!" breathed Thranduil, overjoyed to see life once again in his wife's eyes, yet filled with an unspeakable dread at her words. " Melian, we know not what causes this shadow, and..."

"And that is exactly why I should go. I feel the shadow's affect more clearly than anyone and could use that to track it to its source."

"Melian, no! You could be hurt or even killed. I cannot, I _will_ not allow this! Think of our children."

"I am thinking of them, Thranduil," whispered Melian, turning to look back out at the forest, which now glimmered in the morning light. "I would die before I let them grow up this way. Please, let me help in the search, for this shadow is poisoning me. I know not how much longer I can bear it."

For a few moments Thranduil stood silent. When he finally spoke, it was with great reluctance. "Very well. Though I feel a strange foreboding at this plan I will permit it. But," he added with a smile at his wife's sparkling eyes, "I am coming with you. What kind of king would I be if I let my queen go off on a quest without me, hmm?"

Melian laughed, her first time to do so in weeks, and replied with one of her old mischievous grins. "You may come, oh King, but you will have to keep up!" With that, she ducked behind him and ran laughing toward the breakfast hall.

"Ai! Melian, that is not fair! I have Legolas. Come back!" called Thranduil, trying to sprint after his wife without waking his son, laughing the whole time.

*****

Thranduil slashed at the Orc in front of him, pivoting even as it fell to block the blow of the Orc behind him. Spinning underneath its sword, Thranduil finished the Orc off and turned to see how the rest of his Elves were faring. The majority of the attacking Orcs had been slain, and even now Thranduil could hear the calls of his archers pursuing the survivors. However, as Thranduil gazed wearily about the glade at the carnage of the surprise attack, he grieved at the sight of fair faces amidst the foul. The price of this victory had not been cheap.

The slight rustle of Elven feet running toward him in the brush alerted Thranduil to the Elf's approach moments before he came panting into the glade.

"My king! You must come quickly. It is Queen Melian!"

*****

Thranduil raced past the messenger as he caught sight of Melian lying on the ground Dropping to his knees by her side, he gazed with horror at the gushing sword wound across her stomach and side that two Elves were vainly trying to bandage.

"What happened?" he gasped reaching a shaking hand to brush his wife's matted hair away from her closed eyes. "I thought the Queen's party escaped as the battle was beginning?"

"We were pursued with a strange intensity, my Liege. They almost seemed to sense where we were headed. We were surrounded and a strange terror filled our minds. We fought as best we could, but they overran us until reinforcements arrived. My lady the Queen, and we two are all that remain," explained the distraught archer, taking a moment from tending the Queen's wound.

"Where is the healer?"

"The healer was slain, my Lord. We are doing what we can. A runner has been sent back to the palace to bring another healer and supplies."

Thranduil barely heard the Elf's reply, so intent was his examination of his wife's still features. The two archers finished doing what they could to aid the Queen - which was pitifully little due to the vast internal damage done - and stepped back to give the king a moment alone with his wife.

"Melian? Melian! Please answer me, Beloved. Melian!"

With a slight gasp, Melian opened her eyes, glassy with pain and loss of blood. "Thranduil?"

"Yes, my love. I am here. Do not try to move. Help is coming."

"No!" she whispered, gasping as she tried to sit up, "Thranduil, the shadow ..."

"Melian, peace!" soothed the King, pushing her gently back down. "The shadow is gone. The orcs were defeated."

But Melian would not be pacified, shaking her head in protest. "No, it is not as it seems. Beloved, you must listen to me. It is so much stronger than we thought. It must not be allowed to take hold or the chance to banish it will be lost!" She was gasping shallowly for breath from her pain and the urgency of her pleas. "Promise me; promise me, Thranduil, that you will withstand it."

"I promise you, Melian. I will do all within my power. Now, please! Be calm."

Having secured Thranduil's promise, Melian relaxed, allowing her head and arms to rest limply against his chest. Thranduil cradled her gently, resting his head against hers, squeezing his eyes tight against the flood of tears threatening to spill forth.

Melian's mind seemed to wander now, following paths that tore at Thranduil's heart. "The children . . . Aldarion, so strong and wise. So much like you, beloved. Elemmire, I wonder who she will finally choose. Her merry spirit will keep her husband busy! Cuthelion, so talented, though he is still so young. Legolas, my precious baby... I wish I could watch them grow up."

"You will, my love," replied Thranduil, kissing her forehead. However, she seemed to not even be aware of his presence.

"How I shall miss Greenwood's song, whispering gently on the evening winds! Yet ... I shall sing Iluvatar's song among the Valar." Melian smiled slightly, half seeing the splendor of the Undying Lands already.

Thranduil was becoming frantic at Melian's ramblings, yet could not fight past the ball of fear and grief in his throat to speak.

"Thranduil, beloved," whispered Melian, reaching to caress his cheek, both love and sorrow reflecting in her eyes. "I shall miss you most of all."

"No, Melian! You are not leaving yet; you must not! I will die without you" Thranduil held her even closer, as if he could somehow physically prevent her spirit from departing. His words seemed to penetrate the fog that clouded her mind.

"My love, you must not. The thought of being separated from you rends my heart, but you must not let your grief ruin you! Your song has not yet ended."

Melian was beginning to drift again, fading now, even as Thranduil watched with increasing horror.

"Melian!"

"I love you with all I am, Beloved." she whispered, her eyes slowly drifting closed.

"I love you as well," choked Thranduil, no longer trying to check the stream of silver tears.

"I will be waiting for you," she breathed, then all fell still.

"Wait! Melian? Melian! No!!" Thranduil was bordering on hysterics, calling his wife's name over and over as he tried to get some reaction from her lifeless body. The guards rushed up at Thranduil's cries, but the sight of their queen revealed their worst fears. Wails of grief soon filled the forest. Yet Thranduil took no notice, continuing to weep over his wife's motionless form.

*****

Thranduil sat staring blankly at the wall, too numb to take notice of anything but his all-consuming grief. He had not moved since his steward had led him here two days ago, not even bothering to change his blood stained clothes. The whole realm lay quiet in grief, many fearing for their King's life as well. A few of the servants had tried rousing the King, yet they might as well have been shadows for all the attention he paid them. Not even Aldarion, his oldest son could coax him from his stupor. All Thranduil could see was his beloved Melian lying forever silent amidst the weeping trees.

"Ada, where's mama?" asked a small voice at Thranduil's knee. Long moments passed before the king slowly turned to gaze at the crying child staring wide-eyed at him.

'_Those eyes_.' thought Thranduil absently, slowly reaching a hand to wipe away the babe's tears. '_So much like Melian's_.' This thought made his breath catch as grief rolled through him anew, and he turned away from Legolas's gaze.

"Ada! Wha's wong? Why is evvybody cwyin'? I wan my Mama!" Legolas's fear was rising and the absence of his mother was a new terror wreaking havoc within his infant heart.

The infant's sobs for mother broke into Thranduil's grief. He scooped Legolas into his arms and held him as father and son mingled their tears. He would not fail Melian's last child.


	2. The Exchange

**Chapter 1—**_**The Exchange**_

Legolas ducked under his opponents charge. Light glanced off his blade as he slashed to the side, aiming for his attacker's ribs. The other deftly feinted away while counterattacking with his own glimmering blade. The two blades caught. Eyes met. Determination sparked in each set. Suddenly, Legolas's opponent frowned uncertainly. The moment's hesitation gave Legolas all the time he needed to gather his strength and send the other reeling-- right into a delicate vase that had adorned Thranduil's halls for centuries.

Legolas's sparring partner jumped up guiltily, but Legolas dismissed the wreckage with a glance. The approaching servant's outraged visage indicated he was not so indifferent.

"Prince Legolas, sparring in the palace is strictly…"

"You forget your place," growled the youth, haughty eyes glaring at the impertinent servant. "I am no child for you to order at your whim. I answer to none but my father, and I doubt _he_ will find fault." An impish grin suddenly replaced the glare. "Besides, I never liked that vase anyway."

Legolas with his embarrassed partner in tow withdrew down the hall.

The servant scowled at the retreating form of the prince but sighed, knowing it was no use. Legolas was his father's pride and joy and could do no wrong. Thranduil was a wise ruler, except when it came to his son, for the king could not bear to see Legolas sad. Legolas had Melian's spirit, much to Thranduil's everlasting joy and sorrow. The loss of the Queen was still keenly felt, even after more than 70 years.

*****

Legolas wandered through the palace, admiring the grand preparations being made for his birthday feast. Thranduil never spared any expense for him, but this particular celebration was even more impressive than usual. Legolas would be turning 80. It was at this coming of age feast that Thranduil planned to legally declare Legolas the heir to the throne.

Eventually Legolas wandered out into the palace gardens. Leaping up into a nearby tree, he reclined amongst its branches sighing in pleasure at its beautiful melody. A dark shadow seemed to mar its harmonies for a moment, but it quickly passed, too far off to do much. After a while, he began to sing quietly in tune with the trees.

"Your mother was always singing just like that."

Legolas opened his eyes, smiling down at his father. "So you have told me, Ada," he replied tenderly, noting the sad, far-off look in his father's eyes. Legolas gracefully leapt to the ground and went to Thranduil. "What is it you need of me, Father?"

Thranduil smiled at his youngest son's perceptiveness. "So much like your mother," he sighed. "I wish your brothers had more of her. The war party from the border has just arrived ... without Aldarion and Cuthelion. They know they are supposed to be here for your coming of age feast, yet they remained with the replacement guards. I would go get them myself, but matters of state will not permit it. I would like you to go get them. I have written a letter requesting their presence in a way they cannot refuse."

Legolas' eyes lit up at the prospect of being sent on a mission. Feeling his chest swell with pride at the trust his father placed in him, he replied, "Do not worry, Father. I will get them and be back in plenty of time for next week's celebration."

Thranduil smiled. "I know you will. I am sending two guards with you. They can protect you on your journey and take your brothers' places on the border guard. You may leave as soon as you are ready."

Legolas bowed formally to Thranduil before giving him a quick hug and speeding off to prepare for the journey.

*****

It took nearly two days for Legolas and the replacement guards to reach the princes' outpost on Greenwood's western border. Once there, the captain explained that Aldarion and Cuthelion had gone about half a day's journey to the south to investigate a passing caravan from the north. After spending the night with the guards, Legolas set out to retrieve his brothers, explaining he could not wait for their return. Knowing there would probably be a scene when his brothers learned of his business, he refused to take a guard.

*****

Aldarion frowned as he surveyed the caravan from an old look out station amidst the trees. He did not like the look of these men. However, Cuthelion's voice in his ear banished his thoughts of the caravan.

"Look who is coming."

Noting the glint in Cuthelion's green eyes, Aldarion did not need to see the form of his youngest brother slipping through the trees to know Legolas was there.

"What is he doing here?"

"Can you not guess?" replied Cuthelion with a bitter laugh. "The King must have sent him to get us for the feast. Spoiled child, I bet he is enjoying this chance to show off Father's favor."

Aldarion said nothing, but the smoldering fire in his blue eyes was answer enough. Too often since his mother's death Aldarion had been shoved aside in favor of Legolas. Too often had Thranduil been too busy to talk with Aldarion, yet dropped everything at Legolas's slightest word. The fact that Legolas had become selfish from these attentions did not help the situation. However, it was his father's intent to make Legolas heir to the throne that turned Aldarion irrevocably against Legolas. Legolas would never be half the leader Aldarion was.

Cuthelion looked up as Aldarion angrily turned away, stalking back across the wooden platform to resume his scrutiny of the caravan. Cuthelion felt his brother's frustration. Melian's death had affected him the most. Bereft of his mother, over-looked by his father - Cuthelion had been sadly neglected through the remainder of his childhood years. Noting this, Aldarion had taken him under his wing, helping him through those difficult times. Even when Cuthelion came of age the two stayed together, joining in the ever more difficult fight to keep the shadow and its creatures at bay.

By this time Legolas had spotted them and was just making his way onto the lookout platform where they stood. His smug grin faded, however, as he caught sight of his brother's stares.

"You are ordered . . ."

"Shall we take orders from you?" snarled Cuthelion. "You may reign supreme at home, but here we keep our own counsel."

"You are fools to refuse the King's wishes and risk the loss of Father's good will."

"Risk? How can we risk what we do not have?" sneered Cuthelion stalking toward Legolas and making him back up to the edge of the platform.

"Father's favor rests in merit. If you do not have his favor then it is obvious you lack in merit," retorted Legolas, eyes beginning to smolder.

"Then why did Father give you a pure mithril knife," he snatched the treasured item from its sheath, "and leave the ones who can actually use one to arm themselves with leftovers from the armory?"

"Give that back!" cried Legolas, jumping forward at Cuthelion.

Cuthelion danced out of the way and began tossing the knife in the air, pretending like he intended to drop it into the nearby river.

"Stop or I will report this treachery to Father!"

"Oooh, he's going to tell on us," taunted Cuthelion, throwing the knife to Aldarion who deftly caught it.

"Hmm, it is such a fine blade-- too good for the likes of you. Perhaps I will keep it," mused Aldarion, jumping onto a higher branch to escape Legolas' enraged charge.

"No, it is mine!" yelled Legolas, jumping up to pursue Aldarion. However, Legolas stumbled back in shock as Aldarion locked gazes with him.

"Yours? Since when do you care about what belongs to whom? The throne has always been mine, but now, little usurper, you will wear the crown."

Legolas continued to back up, fear coursing through him as Aldarion advanced, holding the mithril knife menacingly at his side.

"Was it not enough that you stole Father's love that you had to steal my birthright too?" Aldarion stopped, closing his eyes as he tried to control the pain and anger that had been building in him for decades. With a sigh, he threw the knife down at Legolas's feet, making him jump, before turning away in disgust. "Take your precious knife and get out. I have work to do."

Cuthelion was not about to let Legolas get off that easily, however. Jumping forward, he grabbed Legolas by the shirt and slammed him into the trunk of the tree, punching him in the stomach. Throwing the gasping Legolas to the floor, Cuthelion turned away in disdain. "Now leave, before I do something worse."

Outraged at his treatment, Legolas sprang at Cuthelion with a cry. "Backstabbing dwarves! Maybe if you weren't so worthless, Father would..."

Aldarion's fist caught Legolas full on the jaw, sending him crashing back to the floor. In blind anger, Legolas reached for his bow, but Cuthelion kicked him in the side, grabbed his bow, and smashed it against the trunk of the tree. He threw the quiver over the edge of the platform. The long held back jealousy and hate had broken loose and the brothers were caught up in its raging tide.

Legolas held his own for a moment, but Aldarion and Cuthelion's combined efforts soon overwhelmed him. Almost beyond all reason at this point, they vented their wrath on Legolas for several minutes before allowing him to slump to the floor. Cuthelion placed his knee on Legolas' back, pinning him to the ground. Pulling out his knife, he yanked Legolas's head back by his hair and held the knife to his throat.

"Maybe we should just kill him and be rid of this dirt."

"No," commanded Aldarion, grabbing Cuthelion by the shoulder. "Let us not be guilty of spilling our brother's blood. I hate him as much as you do, but I will not do this."

"Why don't you sell him?"

Aldarion and Cuthelion had their arrows knocked at the strange human standing at the base of the tree within the blink of an eye. The thin man seemed to take no note of his danger as he spoke again in Sindarin.

"An Eldar youth would be quite valuable. I'd be willing to pay in mithril."

The man's smile sent shudders down Aldarion's spine. There was something very evil feeling about this black-garbed stranger who stared up at them with hooded eyes. Aldarion was just speaking up to dismiss the man when Cuthelion spoke first.

"How much would you give for him?"

"Bring him down so I may see him," replied the man with a feral grin.

Legolas had scooted back to the far edge of the platform and was staring at them with wide eyes full of shock.

"Cuthelion! Wait! What..." began Legolas as Cuthelion grabbed him by the arm and jerked him forward.

Cuthelion silenced Legolas with a fierce slap in the face. Twisting Legolas's arm behind his back, making him cry out, Cuthelion made Legolas go first as they descended from the tree.

Aldarion's heart beat fast as he continued to cover the stranger. This was not right! Legolas did not deserve this fate! But a small malicious voice kept whispering about all the pain and injustice Aldarion had endured, placing all the blame at Legolas's feet. So Aldarion kept silent, half horrified as he watched the grim proceedings.

Once at the base of the tree, Cuthelion shoved Legolas down at the stranger's feet. Legolas tried to bolt away from the human's touch, but Cuthelion held him fast.

A wave of revulsion and fear swept over Legolas as the man inspected him like he would a new horse, running his hand along Legolas's well-muscled arms and shoulders.

"Don't touch me! I am..."

Cuthelion's deadly hiss in his ear cut him off. "Say one more word, and I'll kill you instead. I don't care what Aldarion thinks; it's what you deserve."

Legolas went still, his face draining of color. Everything was happening so fast he could barely grasp its full implications.

The strange human took a large leather pouch from his belt, jangling its contents for emphasis. "I'll pay 40 ounces of pure mithril for him. That's almost my entire earnings on this trip."

Legolas's wide eyes looking back at him over his shoulder stopped Cuthelion's hasty agreement. Suddenly, Cuthelion realized what he was about to do and the pit dropped out from his stomach. Legolas was just a boy. It wasn't his fault he reminded Thranduil of Melian. But it had gone too far already. Legolas would never keep quiet, and Cuthelion had no wish for exile. Steeling himself against the shame that swept through him, Cuthelion turned away from Legolas's pleading look.

"Done."

The stranger took hold of Legolas by the arm and passed the heavy pouch over to Cuthelion. He did not even look inside, but clutching the bag so tightly his knuckles turned white, he avoided his brother's gaze.

Taking advantage of Legolas's shock, the man brought out an iron collar and chain that had been hidden beneath his robes and snapped it shut around the elf's neck. Legolas tried to jerk away from the chilling metal, but it was too late and terror raced through him.

"Cuthelion, wait! Help me! Aldarion, please!"

Taking the end of the chain, the man lashed Legolas viciously across the side of the face knocking him to the ground. Legolas stared up at the human in horror, holding his bleeding cheek that was rapidly swelling.

"You _will_be quiet, slave," growled the man, bending down to manacle Legolas's wrists together. Legolas's resistance was stopped by two vicious kicks to his stomach. The pain, fear, and shock were too much for Legolas to handle and he merely lay quiet as the slaver connected his chained hands to his collar. Finished with his task, the man rose. "Come along, slave," he snapped, dragging Legolas to his feet by his collar.

Turning to the two elves quietly watching from the trees, he smiled tightly and bowed. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, my lords."

Then turning to his new slave and snapping at him to keep up, the stranger strode off toward the caravan. Legolas gazed back at his brothers, stunned tears streaming down his face, until the chain leash pulled him away.

*****

Cuthelion could not bear to see the man's maltreatment of Legolas. He leaned his head against the tree, clenching his eyes shut. After the stranger disappeared from view, dragging Legolas along like a dog, Aldarion turned to his brother with horror in his eyes.

"What have we done?"


	3. Introductions

_Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. Thanks goes especially to my dear friend Littlefish for her kind reviews and continued support through all these years. I would also like to thank my beta reader Larael for her fantastic attention to detail. Now, on to the story. _

_All reviews are greatly appreciated._

**Chapter 2 - Introductions**

The slight breeze blew stray wisps of hair into Legolas's face, further obscuring his tear-blurred vision. The pain of his brothers' rejection overwhelmed him, making him oblivious to his surroundings until, with a thrill of panic, he realized his captor was leading him out of the forest. Legolas stopped dead in his tracks at Greenwood's edge, unwilling to leave his beloved home without a fight. The slaver turned to him angrily at the sudden resistance.

"Get moving, Elf. I don't have time for this."

Legolas stared at him with hard eyes, even taking a few steps back.

"So," mused the man, his voice becoming chillingly calm, "It seems our little Elf doesn't want to leave his forest. How touching."

With a sudden jerk, he pulled Legolas forward, a black leather whip appearing in his other hand. Legolas grabbed the lead chain as best as he could with manacled hands, struggling to wrest it from his captor's grasp while remaining clear of the whip. However, the slaver was prepared for the Elf's rebellion and with a shrill whistle he began lashing Legolas repeatedly across the chest and arms. Chained as he was, Legolas still managed to avoid half the blows while taking a few steps back into the forest. Suddenly, with a heave on the chain and a flick that wrapped the whip around the Elf's knees, the man sent Legolas crashing to the ground. Just then, two horses thundered up and slid to a halt next to the struggling pair.

"Helgar, Burnad," called his captor with a feral grin, "I would like to introduce you to our newest guest."

Legolas tried to scramble away from the humans' touch, but the slavers quickly surrounded him. Amidst many kicks and curses at his struggles, another lead chain was attached to Legolas's collar. The human who had first captured Legolas shoved him to the ground while the other two mounted their horses, each holding one of the lead chains. The man bent over Legolas, smiling at his wide eyes as the Elf realized what was about to happen.

"Since you seem to have so much energy, we're going to let you _run_ back to camp."

The man vaulted up behind one of the henchmen as the horses sprang forward. The chains jerked Legolas along as he scrambled to keep his footing.

Legolas managed to keep up until the horses were at a dead run. By the time the men reached their camp, Legolas was nearly unconscious, lying in a crumpled heap even after the horses had stopped and the riders dismounted.

The slaver called Helgar sauntered over to the shaking, bleeding Elf, calling back to his leader, "Hey, Saleros, what you want me to do with him. You want to start his training now?"

Saleros walked over to Legolas, knelt down, and grabbed the bloodied collar, forcing Legolas to look at him.

"My dear Helgar, can't you see this poor youth is a mighty Elf? Elves are special, _superior_ creatures." Raucous laughter broke out among the surrounding slavers. Saleros smile froze the blood in Legolas's veins. "They must be handled _delicately_."

Legolas barely had time to register the blow that plunged him into darkness.

*****

Benoni glanced inquisitively at the circle of guards. The distress call earlier probably meant a new slave had been captured, although how that had happened in this deserted area he could not imagine. Still, that should not have caused the stir currently going on. Coarse jeers brought him back from his musings. Sweat trickled down through his short dark brown beard mottled with gray, as he turned hazel eyes filled with caution on the approaching guards. His breath seemed to flee his body as he caught sight of the limp figure being hauled by the guards.

'_An Elf! Saleros captured one of the Firstborn. Valar have mercy on us._'

Dropping the Elf next to a wooden post, the guards secured his chain to the post's metal ring. Helgar noticed Benoni tending the nearby cooking pot and called to him.

"Hey you, Slave. Come take care of this Elf. Saleros don't want to lose valuable merchandise."

Benoni warily approached the prone figure as the guards left. Despite the many cuts and bruises, the Elf was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Tears sprang up in Benoni's eyes at the sight of the cruel iron collar around the creature's throat. The thought of such beauty ensnared by such evil broke his heart.

Fetching a basin of warm water, a clean rag, and some bandages, Benoni went to work. A jagged gash on the Elf's arm and a deep cut made by the sharp edge of the collar were the worst injuries, and he started with those. Benoni had just finished bandaging the cut on the Elf's arm and was starting to cleanse the one on his neck when the being woke. With a cry, the Elf knocked Benoni out of the way and rolled into a defensive crouch.

With arms out to the side and palms open, Benoni advanced, trying to show he meant no harm. "Forgive me, Master Elf, but I was just trying to clean your . . ."

"Do not touch me, filthy human," snarled Legolas at the wretched being before him. A slight accent betrayed his lack of familiarity with the Common Tongue.

"I am sorry, Sir, but I must tend to your wounds," persisted Benoni coming nearer. "I am not going to . . ."

"I can attend myself. The thought of human touch sickens me worse than any wounds."

"No," pleaded the man, hurt more than he cared to show at the Elf's derisive tone. "I am not among those that captured you. I too am a slave."

At this last statement, Legolas struck the man to the ground. "If humans wish to enslave the refuse of their own kind, that is none of my business, but _I_ am no _slave_. I am of royal blood, and my father's wrath will descend like a solstice blizzard for what you have done. I will not remain in this revolting camp long."

Keeping his eyes downcast, Benoni nodded and backed away from the glaring Elf. As Benoni turned away, he glanced back, whispering softly into the wind, "I pray it will be so."

*****

Legolas sat quietly with his back against the post and gazed at the darkening sky. The sting of his healing injuries was nothing compared to the pain of longing in his heart. Legolas had never been away from Greenwood before, and the absence of the trees' comforting presence clawed at him like a raging beast. As the evening breeze picked up, he realized he could catch whispers of the trees' song. Their song tonight was one of mourning for their lost brother.

"No!" shouted Legolas, springing to his feet and startling the nearby humans. "I am _not_ lost, and I never will be! We will sing together yet."

Benoni watched the Elf in awe from the where he sat chained in with the long line of slumbering slaves. The beautiful words the Elf spoke stirred his heart, though he did not understand them. Somehow the Elf seemed to glow as he stood there in the moonlight. However, as Benoni continued to watch the ethereal being, a new feeling came over him. Although the glowing figure stood in defiance and anger, sorrow and pain also seemed to be in his stance. A passing cloud hid the moon's light, and Benoni gasped at how young the Elf suddenly looked-- how lost and alone.

Memories stirred within Benoni of the torment he had endured as a new slave. The despair of all he had lost had nearly overwhelmed him. Benoni vowed to do all he could to ease the Elf's anguish-- if the Elf would let him.

*****

The sun singed the horizon's edge in the morning twilight as Saleros marched up to his new captive. Legolas's hate-filled stare balked the following guards, but Saleros merely smiled at his captive's defiance.

"Come, little Snaga, it is time we properly met," began Saleros.

Legolas froze as the human addressed him by the Orc name for slave.

"I have a name, _Human_," hissed Legolas.

"All you have is whatever I chose to give you, Snaga, including your name."

Legolas went from rigid stillness to blinding motion and lunged at the waiting human. The force of Legolas's momentum nearly jerked him off his feet as the chain reached its end just shy of Saleros. Quick as a swooping hawk, Legolas recovered and rolled into a defensive crouch.

Saleros threw his head back and laughed. "Rather over-confident in yourself, aren't you?" he taunted.

Legolas went cold with rage but remained still. Saleros grinned down at him while loosing a black whip from its coil on his belt.

"It seems I have done the great Elf King a favor by removing such a brash youth from his forces."

Legolas leapt forward, extending his legs to knock a guard into Saleros. The other guard moved in to aid his companions, but found himself sprawled on the ground before he knew what had happened. Legolas hissed as the whip bit deep along his cheek. Jerking and spinning with all his training as an Elven warrior, he fought. More guards joined the fray. However, Legolas fought a losing battle, and eventually he was dragged to the ground. Saleros stepped on the chain connecting Legolas's manacled wrists to his collar, pinning the elf to the ground.

"A futile effort, Snaga. Let me introduce myself. I am your new master," emphasized Saleros in a low voice filled with triumph, bending close to the prostrate elf.

Legolas spit at the human, defying his statement and challenging him in Sindarin. "No man is my master, nor will you ever be."

Saleros calmly straightened, wiped the spit off his face, and began lashing the Elf's exposed back. Saleros was no novice with the whip and used all his expertise to inflict the most pain he could. Legolas was breathing raggedly by the time his captor finally stopped. Still ruthlessly calm, the slaver turned away, coiling his whip, and called to his second in command.

"Helgar, see if you can teach this slave some manners. The rest of you, start breaking up camp, I want to be on the move before noon."

The men saluted their leader and rushed to their duties, shouting and kicking at any slave that did not move fast enough for their taste.

Benoni watched the "lesson" in apprehensive sorrow. The Elf was not going to handle captivity well. Moreover, a nagging worry clouded his heart as he was forced away to help prepare the camp for departure. As bad as the morning's ordeal had been, Saleros had deviated from his normal initiation. This unusual behavior troubled Benoni, and fear for the young Elf welled in his heart.

Helgar turned away from the activity of the camp to grin wickedly at his charge. "First lesson, Slave, _never talk back_."


	4. Coming of Age

_Author's Note: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers for your encouragement, questions, and comments, especially Dipdab 500, Princess Arimae, and Littlefish for taking the time to review each chapter. _

_Princess Arimae- Legolas is 80 years old. The human equivalent would be approximately 18. _

_This is the last chapter that I wrote originally, which was a horrible thing to do to my readers. However, do not dismay. I do have the next chapter written and do plan to continue working on this story. All your reviews are greatly appreciated._

**Chapter 3- Coming of Age**

The cool predawn winds blew gently against Legolas's upturned face as he gazed at the lightening sky. The waning light of Earendil reflected in the silver tear that slid down the Elf's bruised cheek. His forlorn heart found little comfort in the pastels of dawn. This should have been a moment of excitement and glory for him. The realm should have been singing his praises, merrymaking and joining in the coming of age celebration for Greenwood's youngest prince.

Instead, Legolas sang quietly to himself in the cold solitude, pouring his pain, anger, and loneliness into the hushed melody. The raucous cawing of large black birds interrupted his song. As he turned to look at the low flying birds, he winced, bruised and aching muscles protesting the movement. Legolas's back was all but healed from Saleros's beating, but the last four days had added many bruises to replace the welts. Breathing was still slightly painful from three cracked ribs incurred during a "dispute" with Helgar. However, Legolas felt it was worth it knowing Helgar had been unable to sit comfortably for the next two days.

The rumblings of Legolas's empty stomach induced thoughts of the lavish feast Thranduil had planned in his son's honor for this evening and reopened his longing for home. The knowledge that Saleros had the power to withhold all food from him burned the captive's heart.

By now, the camp had begun its morning preparations for the day. Meek steps accompanied by the clanking of leg chains heralded the approach of the slave who seemed to have been given care of Legolas. The man's weathered face wreathed in short brown hair graying at the temples was a mixture of concern and curiosity as he placed the Elf's daily water ration near the glaring prince.

"Please, let me clean your wounds. I fear…"

"Get out of my sight, Slave," hissed Legolas, taking his anger out on the innocent human.

Benoni had expected rejection and, with a nod, turned away to help break camp. He kept his gaze down as he passed two guards coming to unchain the Elf from the isolation post. Saleros seemed to realize putting his Elven captive with the rest of the thirty human slaves would only cause trouble at this point. Therefore, the defiant Elf was staked slightly away from the rest.

Legolas leveled his best glare on the approaching guards as he stood to prepare for the coming confrontation. Both guards paled, but came on, clubs ready to strike if the captive made any aggressive moves. Feeling the need to vent his writhing emotions, Legolas charged the men the moment they came within reach. Faster than the eye could follow, the enraged Elf had flipped one guard on his back and kicked the feet out from under the other. Punching the fallen guard in the face when he tried to rise, Legolas felt the satisfying crunch of bone before ducking away from the other guard's club. Unable to stop the weapon's momentum, the man accidentally struck his companion in the stomach. Legolas picked up the moaning guard's own club and brandished it at the confused human trying to apologize to his partner. Suddenly, a black whip wrapped itself around the Elf's wrist and jerked Legolas backwards. Put off balance by the sudden move, Legolas crashed heavily into the wooden post, jarring his cracked ribs. A moaning gasp escaped his lips as he tried to stand and face his assailant.

Saleros glowered at his captive, quickly grabbing the neck chain and pulling him forward. Legolas tried to resist, planting his feet in the soft prairie grass, but a severe kick to his right knee sent waves of pain shooting up his leg and he fell to the ground. Several more kicks to his legs and stomach served as punishment for his futile rebellion. Saleros continued to supervise as Legolas was dragged to the slave wagon and chained to one of the iron rings fastened to its side.

"Go ahead and defy me now, Snaga. I will teach you to tremble at my every word," sneered Saleros before turning back to oversee the last preparations before the camp moved out.

*****

Every painful step that took Legolas farther from his home seemed to drain the weary Elf. When the bulky wagon finally rolled to a stop, Legolas had to force himself to remain standing instead of dropping to his knees as his overtaxed body begged. The guards went about releasing the slaves from the slave line so they could help prepare the camp. The wagons were drawn into a large circle with the horses picketed at one end near the supply wagon. The slave wagon and isolation post were positioned at the other end, far from the warm fires the guards gathered round to ward off the autumn chill.

Two guards came to release Legolas. However, instead of immediately taking him over to the isolation post being hammered into the ground as they had done every previous night, the guards dragged Legolas to the other side of the camp. When he caught sight of Saleros, a sudden sense of foreboding filled him. The slaver made a totally black silhouette against the blood red of the setting sun, his whip coiled in his left hand, his right hand on his hip in a cocky stance.

One of the guards kicked Legolas's feet out from under him, and the Elf landed hard on his hands and knees a few feet in front of Saleros. The human's triumphant gaze as he approached put Legolas on edge. Something was about to happen.

"Coming of age today, aren't you?" began Saleros.

Legolas's head snapped up at the human's words, eyes huge. How could Saleros know about his coming of age today?

Almost as if in response to his silent question, the slaver spoke. "Your father is quite a forceful writer," he remarked, pulling a wrinkled letter from his belt. "Such an occurrence calls for something special. I'm afraid an Elven feast is out of the question, but perhaps I can come up with something else. Helgar, if you would be so good as to secure our honored guest."

Helgar seemed to be in on Saleros's plan, and he gleefully went to work. With much protest, Legolas was finally staked spread-eagled on his stomach to the ground. He tried to keep Saleros in his sight as the human circled about him, but his position prevented it. He could still hear the slaver though, and the man's words chilled his heart.

"Coming of age is a monumental event, a standard for measuring the rest of your life. Among men it is customary to give a special gift to the one coming of age that will help them in their adult life. Since I do not want you to feel left out, I have a very special gift for you."

Saleros turned to Helgar who was kneeling beside the fire. Taking a long metal object from him, Saleros turned to his wide-eyed captive with a leer on his face that made Legolas's heart clench in fear. Saleros knelt by the bound Elf's head and held the foreign object so Legolas could see it. The golden red of the setting sun glinted off the polished iron bar that connected to a metal figure at its base. Saleros laughed at the Elf's confused expression.

"I realize that Elves do not use such things, but men find brands very useful in identifying their belongings."

Saleros held the brand so Legolas could see the shape at its base: the metal intricately outlined a roaring dragon, its wings outstretched, with an S rune on its breast.

"You see, Elf, this is the mark of a slave. This way, no matter how far they run, how they try to hide, this mark reveals slaves for what they are."

Finishing this last speech, Saleros walked over to one of the slaves working to prepare the evening meal a few feet away. Grabbing the thin man by the chain connecting his collar and wrists, Saleros pulled the slave over to Legolas, making the man kneel with his back to the Elf. Taking hold of the thread bare, tattered remains of the slave's tunic, Saleros tore it back to reveal the man's right shoulder. The sight of the dark brown scar set off sharply against the slave's pale skin made Legolas recoil in horror and disgust. Saleros pushed the shame-faced slave away and sneered down at his captive.

"You see how such a device can be quite useful."

"It will not help you with me," hissed Legolas, trying to regain control of his rapidly beating heart. The pain of such a process would be excruciating, but the prince found comfort in the knowledge that he would never retain such a mark.

Saleros seemed to pay no attention to his captive's words and, turning, gave the brand to Helgar to begin heating in the fire. The slaver's tone was calm, almost conversational as he strolled over to a table set up a few feet away in front of a tent. His words were directed at Helgar, but were clearly meant for the bound Elf.

"Did you know, Helgar, that Elves don't scar? It is a strange fact, but true. Another one of their superior qualities it seems." The slaver's lip twitched into a mirthless smile at his last statement.

"But, sir," began Helgar, startled at this new information, "how are we going to…"

"I have been considering this problem since I first made my fine purchase." Saleros smiled, noticing out of the corner of his eye how his words made Legolas flinch as if he had been slapped. "And, thanks to some unnamed help, I have found a solution."

Saleros had kept his back to the watching Elf, hiding his actions at the table, but now he turned, revealing a small black bowl in his hands. Legolas felt his breath leave his body, his eyes riveted on the foreboding object. As the slaver moved closer, the acrid odor of the bowl's contents reached Legolas's nose, nearly making him gag. The foul smell seemed filled with malevolent breath-- the work of an unnamed evil. Legolas twisted franticly in the bonds that held him, desperate to escape the doom coming toward him, but the chains held tight.

By now the entire camp, guards and slaves alike, had crowded as near to the unfolding scene as they could. However, as Saleros turned with an unholy light reflecting in his eyes, all scrambled to get back. Even Helgar momentarily looked as if he wished to depart the circle before steeling himself to his duties.

The sun had set, except for a glowing strip against the black horizon. The dark night seemed to coalesce around the fire-lit circle, as if to hide this evil from all light. Saleros truly did look possessed, the fire's red light dancing across his cruel features as he knelt to place the dish next to the struggling Elf. Shuddering and coughing as the toxic fumes invaded his body, Legolas watched through watering eyes as Saleros turned to retrieve the brand from Helgar. Holding the now glowing bar in front of him in black-gloved hands, Saleros approached.

"No!" cried Legolas, "You _cannot_…"

Saleros cut him off, speaking menacingly in the Black Speech. Legolas gave a strangled cry and tried to block the agonizing sound, but there was no relief. Now standing above the frantic captive Saleros switched back into the Common Tongue.

"May all know that I have purchased this Elf legally and have legitimate hold over his life. This brand declares him my slave and claims him as my property."

At Legolas's scream the whole of nature ground to a halt. Eternity seemed to pass before Saleros removed the brand from the Elf's right shoulder. Legolas's choking sobs were the only sound in the eerily silent night. Handing the cooling brand back to Helgar, Saleros removed his gloves and knelt beside the quivering youth. Terror filled eyes watched the human dip his fingers in the bowl. A thick glob of black ooze covered his hand when he pulled it from the dish. Saleros's eyes, burning with malicious ecstasy, met Legolas's horrified, pleading gaze for a brief moment before the human ground the mixture into the brand's raw wound with one swift movement.

If the Elf's cry had been horrible before, now his screams held levels of pure agony beyond the experience of any present. The earth shuddered, and a strange, deep groaning could be heard in the whistling wind.

Pain. Blinding, consuming pain overwhelmed Legolas's mind as the poison invaded his system. Able to handle no more, a black fog filled the Elf's vision. As the last vestiges of consciousness fled, Legolas heard Saleros's voice whisper in his ear.

"Welcome to your new life, Snaga."


	5. The Elf

_For the first time in seven years, I am thrilled to present a brand new chapter for The Song of Iluvatar. To my dear friends who have waited so long, thank you for all the encouragement and continuing support. I hope it is worth the wait._

**Chapter 4 - The Elf**

Benoni kept the proper pace behind his master, his eyes submissively lowered but flicking constantly about in search of items he would need to purchase for the household. As Nobleman Naeem's most trusted servant, Benoni generally did the shopping by himself. However, today his master desired to peruse Engwar's goods himself, although it was more to show off his finery than to actually shop.

Two years ago, Saleros's caravan had arrived in the crowded city of Engwar that nestled in the crook where the Celduin River merged with the Sea of Rhun. The barely concealed squalor of the town combined with the grim visages of its citizens gave little hope to the bedraggled slaves. Benoni had been one of the fortunate few to be sold to Naeem, a nobleman with a holding to the west of the town. Though kind in his own way, Benoni's master lived for pleasure, entertainment, and the praise of others. Benoni's quiet competence, and expertise at storytelling, had earned him high favor with Naeem, although Benoni dreaded the day he failed to entertain the nobleman. Still, there were plenty worse masters, and Benoni enjoyed a modest amount of freedom due to his trusted status.

A stirring in the distance near the slaver's market caught Naeem's interest, and he wandered over with Benoni in tow. As they drew near, Benoni bent his head lower with an involuntary shudder: this was Saleros's stand. Naeem gasped and Benoni looked up in time to see a slim form finish a double back flip and land in a crouch. Benoni went rigid with horror as he beheld a sight that would haunt him forever after. Bruises, welts, and other hurts covered nearly every inch of the dirty, emaciated form clothed only in tattered leggings. Yet despite all, none could mistake the being's natural beauty.

Benoni felt the breath being sucked from his body as Saleros put the Elf through other acrobatic moves. Though collared and cuffed, no chains anchored the Elf. Even when Saleros turned his back on the kneeling slave to continue his sales pitch, the Elf remained motionless with head bowed in submission.

"How do I know, if I buy him, I'm not going to get murdered in my bed by his kin?" yelled one nasally nobleman from the side of the crowd.

Saleros leered, "Because he is an outcast sold to me in all lawfulness." Saleros snapped his fingers and the Elven slave moved to his side. The slaver jerked the Elf around. The deep brown dragon seemed to roar in triumph from its perch on the Elf's right shoulder. "No unlawfully branded Elf would keep such a mark. Speak, so they may know."

Though whispered, the Elf's words carried clearly through the crowd, "What my master says is true. I am an outcast of my people, and the slave of my master, Saleros. I submit to my master and any master who would purchase me."

Benoni nearly wept. The Elf's eyes seemed dead, void of life and light. Saleros had indeed broken both body and spirit. Benoni knew without a doubt that the Elf was dying.

Apparently others recognized that fact as well, for most of the crowd dispersed when the bidding started. To Benoni's horror, he realized most of those left were the cruelest, most vile men in the city. Saleros's leer widened as he took in his prospective buyers. After a bid or two, a messenger came to Saleros.

"Ah, I am afraid I must be off on business. Hagar will continue the bidding in my absence. May the best man win," he ended with a sneer, and the crowd roared with laughter. Saleros bent over and whispered into his slave's ear. The Elf shuddered but remained silent, and Saleros slipped from view.

"Benoni, come!" commanded his master, as he turned away to pursue other sights.

The Elf had never treated Benoni with a kind or grateful word, though he had worked tirelessly to aid the Elf's recovery after his horrible branding. Hatred and disdain had been Benoni's only rewards for his acts of kindness. Yet Benoni had never been able to forget the Elf and often sent prayers to Iluvatar for the Elf's safety; he could not simply walk away and leave this estranged Firstborn to die amongst the vile filth of Engwar.

"Master, do you not care to place a bid on the Elf?" inquired Benoni.

"Nay, you can see for yourself that he will not last long. The look of the dead is in his eyes."

"Indeed, Master, I admire your wisdom, but might it not be possible that with care the Elf would survive? The Fair Ones are fabled to have incredible healing powers."

Naeem paused and cast another inquiring glance at the Elf, then shook his head.

"And if he does live? What use have I for such a trinket?"

"Master, the Elves are reported to possess the finest stories ever heard and can sing to charm a bird from its nest. You should never want for amusement with such a vassal."

This seemed to spark the nobleman's interest, yet the bidding was now rather pricy.

"It is a lot of money and trouble."

"Aye, Master, quite true, but what other noble could call himself master of a Firstborn? Your fame would spread, and none could hope to surpass it."

"He is the best thing money can buy, and I do deserve the best," quipped Naeem with a grin. "Get him for me." Then his gaze turned threatening. "But if he dies, then you will wish _you_ had as well."

Benoni bowed low, acknowledging the very real danger of the warning, but too anxious to help the Elf to care much at the moment. He turned to the bidding and found to his dismay that a high bidder had been found and last calls for bids were being made.

Benoni rushed forward. "100 gold pieces," he called, a sum significantly higher than the current bid.

Garreth, the current high bidder, glowered at Benoni, furious at having his prize snatched away at the last moment. Whips and chains hung from his belt, and the reek of vile death surrounded the man so that none stood near. Benoni shuddered; there was no worse fate than becoming Gareth's slave. Benoni could not let that happen to one of the Firstborn.

Hagar called out Benoni's bid, and for a heart-stopping moment, Benoni thought Garreth would challenge him. Then he laughed cruelly. "He's more dead than alive anyway. I shall not buy such an expensive corpse."

"Finding no challengers, the Elf is sold to Nobleman Naeem for the price of 100 gold pieces," announced Hagar.

The Elf closed his eyes with a shudder, not caring to see who his new master would be.

Benoni paid Hagar fifty gold pieces and arranged for him to pick up the rest of the payment at one of Naeem's shops. Hagar chained the Elf's hands and feet and connected a lead chain to his collar; he handed the lead to the nobleman who seemed less pleased with his purchase now that he saw the Elf's condition up close.

"Remember, these kind get a bit feisty. But lay him a little lash, and he'll remember his place. Oh, and he don't need food all the time like normal folk. Just every few days." Hagar grinned. "Ah, we'll sure miss this little slave. It's been so _fun_ having him around. Enjoy."

With that, Hagar cuffed the Elf across the side of his head and made his way through the market to his horse.

Naeem surveyed his new slave with growing dismay and anger. "I am not sure, Elf, that you are worth a hundred gold pieces, so you will prove your worth or you will pay with your life."

"Yes, Master," replied Legolas with a voice devoid of emotion.

"Agh, Benoni, he is your responsibility. If he dies or does not please me… I do not want to see him again until he is worth seeing. Go."

Benoni bowed low and accepted the Elf's lead chain. He longed to speak with the Elf and comfort him but knew now was not the time.

"Come, Elf, we must go," said Benoni, asking more than commanding. If the Elf recognized Benoni's voice, he made no outward sign but obediently followed Benoni through the streets.

_Author's Note__: Please be aware that two years have passed since Chapter 3- Coming of Age. I originally planned to delve more deeply into those two years. However, I found that Tolkien may have been right in his belief that one should not delve too deeply into evil doings. (The wise Saruman probed too deep and was corrupted.) The two years I have not covered are extremely dark years for Legolas, and as I dwelt upon what it would take to bring Legolas to his current state, I found a darkness began to taint my own spirit. That is a major reason I stopped working on this story. I hope you will not be overly disappointed by my decision to omit those chapters that I might continue the story as a whole. There will be a few flashbacks in order to glean the important information, but I just couldn't write those years and keep the darkness at bay. As someone much wiser than I once said, "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Thus, I present to you a story that, while dark, is ultimately about redemption not desolation._


	6. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

_Thank you so much to Siana, Ohtar Vicky, and Littlefish for your reviews and especially your encouragement. Thank you Siana for your understanding and Littlefish for your insights that spur me onwards. Thank you also to Larael for betaing. You all are great! Thanks! _

**Chapter 5- To Sleep, Perchance to Dream**

For the last week Benoni had dedicated every shred of his healing knowledge to the Elf. He had used every ounce of persuasion to obtain food for the Elf far richer and more sustaining than any slave would normally merit. He had found a room in the slave's quarters with a window that let in the morning light and the glimmering stars. He had obtained a cot and blankets and clean clothing for the Elf. Benoni had done everything he knew to do, and the Elf was dying.

Benoni felt he could almost see the life seeping from the Elf's body. The sight of a being that should have been beauty, freedom, and joy embodied so utterly shattered sickened Benoni more than all the horrors he had ever seen. It was simply so _wrong_.

Benoni watched helplessly as the Elf slipped further away. He had yet to respond to Benoni's presence, showing no sign of recognition. Benoni spent much of his day in prayer to Illuvatar to salvage the broken Elf, for he was far beyond any human help.

*****

Legolas could feel his spirit grieving away, and he wished it on. He wished he had died at his brothers' hands. He wished he had never been born, had never been born to be broken. Broken. Shattered. Legolas felt that the pieces of his soul were bare fragments ground into the foul refuse of the past two years. The devastation of his body had truly been horrific. But the ravaging of his mind and soul had been worse. Far, far worse. The true terror of Saleros was not his web of lies. It was the truth that forged those lies into unbreakable chains. Saleros no longer needed to be physically present. His words consumed Legolas every aching minute the Elf remained alive.

_Legolas glowered at the guards as they chained his arms to the pillar in Saleros's quarters. It was the only means of defiance he had left, his body so beaten only the chains kept him upright and his mouth enclosed in a humiliating muzzle. Legolas's heart beat faster as the guards left. After only a few weeks, he had come to fear these sessions with Saleros more than any torture. Musky incense clouded the air and seemed to cloud Legolas's mind as well. Saleros entered._

"_Well, Snaga, I see you still refuse to acknowledge your place. Perhaps, you still do not see the truth."_

_Saleros surveyed his handiwork with the Elf with sadistic pleasure. He let his eyes wander over the chains binding his captive, knowing the Elf was aware of his gaze and understood its significance. Saleros held the Elf at his mercy, and relished in reminding his captive of this fact at every opportunity. _

_Legolas watched Saleros through slitted eyes. How he hated being inspected like a piece of meat hung out to dry! Saleros began to slowly circle the pillar, taking him out of Legolas's line of vision. Despite his best intentions, Legolas felt his body tensing, trembling. _

"_You brought this on yourself." Legolas jerked as Saleros's hissing breath invaded his ear. "Your repulsiveness drove all away. What a relief it must be to your kin to be rid of you!"_

_Legolas strained in rage at his bonds. Saleros laughed._

"_Think, oh Prince. What horror must it have taken to drive brothers to such rage? Is there anyone who didn't despise you? Oh, yes, your father. Your father, whose reputation you sullied with your haughty ways and selfish pride. You were a burden to him, a weight upon his neck pulling him down. Are you so blind that you did not sense it in his eyes? Did you not?!"_

_Saleros grabbed Legolas's face and forced the Elf to meet his eyes. As Legolas struggled against the man's hold he fought to ignore his words. How could this man know what his father thought? Yet, somewhere at the back of Legolas's mind a terrifying voice began to whisper. Images and memories of times with his father began to swim before his eyes, and he saw. He saw and bile filled his mouth. It could not be true, could it?_

As Legolas sat in his latest cell, he knew the answer. It was true. It was all true. Inch by screaming inch, Saleros had torn open the doors to Legolas's inner soul. The stench of festered pride had driven everyone from him. Legolas himself was revolted.

What else could he expect but such an end? Legolas no longer desired freedom, just escape. Escape from the stench of his own soul, from the memory of all he had done and all that had been done to him, from the guilt, from the despair. Escape into the lands beyond. Perhaps there he could outrun it all. Perhaps.


	7. The Dawning

_Author's Note: Once again, thank you to all those who have reviewed: Othar Vicky, Siana, Eleven They Say, and Littlefish. I truly do appreciate constructive criticism as well as all the encouragement._

_Sadly, I will not be able to update for awhile. For the next month, I will be working an additional full-time job on top of the job I already have . While I am very excited about this opportunity, I will barely have time to sleep, much less write. To make up somewhat for my absence, I am posting a larger than normal chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review if you do; your reviews will be especially meaningful while I am working those long hours. _

_Mia ^_^_

**The Dawning**

The end was near. Benoni doubted it would be more than a day before the Elf died. When that happened, he knew his own demise would soon ensue for causing his master such a costly disgrace. Still, his greatest sorrow was for the loss of the Elf. It was the boon of humans to die, not Elves.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. It would mean certain death, but so would the Elf's passing. It would take much work, and there was very little time. Benoni hurried off, thanking Illuvatar that his trusted status would allow him access to the things he would need. He regretted having to break that trust, but there seemed no other way.

*****

Cool night breezes whispered over the slumbering house. Drifting clouds cast mottled shadows over the courtyard. Slipping from shadow to shadow hurried a hooded figure clutching a bulging sack. As he reached the slaves' dwelling, Benoni pushed back his hood, glanced around, then hurried inside. Weaving through silent hallways, Benoni arrived at the Elf's chamber. He slipped a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The hinge's groan made Benoni's heart beat faster; he glanced down the corridor, listening intently. All remained quiet.

With a sigh, he entered the cell. The Elf lay facing the wall, thin sides barely showing any signs of breath. Benoni hurried over and gently shook the Elf's shoulder. No response.

"Friend Elf, please, if you are able at all, you must come with me."

As before, the Elf remained unresponsive. Praying to Illuvatar all the while, Benoni pulled another key from his robe and began to unlock the manacles from the Elf's hands and feet. This apparently got the Elf's attention, for listless blue eyes blinked open and surveyed the man's work. Benoni came to the collar. As he bent to unlock the iron ring, their eyes met. As always, the experience took Benoni's breath away. Still, he tried to give the Elf a reassuring smile. A note of confusion crept into the Elf's gaze.

As the collar fell away, graceful fingers crept up to explore the area it had covered continuously for the last two years. Benoni's smile came easily this time, as did the tears that clouded his vision for a moment. Perhaps his plan would work after all.

Legolas's mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. Death crouched at the edge of his consciousness, enticing him to ignore this withered human and embrace the escape for which his soul longed. Yet the feeling of a body unfettered by chains shocked him into awareness of his surroundings. Almost against his will, questions arose within him.

"What is..," the man's finger against his lips prevented further speech. He motioned for Legolas to follow him. When Legolas hesitated, the man returned, gently placing his hands under Legolas's shoulders and helping him stand. The man continued to support Legolas with one arm while hugging a rough sack with his other arm.

Strange emotions raged within Legolas as they moved out into the dark hallway. Where were they going? What atrocity awaited him at their destination? Or could it… he dared not continue. What did it matter anyway? It was better to die. Yes, it was better. It was better. It was better…

*****

Though it seemed hours, in reality only a few minutes had passed before Benoni unlocked the last gate and slipped through with the Elf in tow. The aroma of dew-laden grass welcomed the pair to the rolling grasslands beyond the nobleman's walls. To the left, Benoni could hear the gentle lapping of the Rhun Sea upon the shoreline. Ahead, the moonlight made waves of its own over the waving grass. They had made it. The Elf would be free.

Legolas stared transfixed at the open prairie. He could not think. He could not breath. His mind refused to accept the hope that battered at its walls. It was impossible.

Benoni gently placed the sack in the Elf's hands. "There is enough food in here to last a man a week, along with a full water skin. I hope it will be enough on your journey."

The Elf made no response to Benoni's words. He just continued to stare out over the prarie, absently holding the sack. Uncertainty began to invade Benoni's triumphant joy.

"It is no trap. You are free to go. Free to return to your home, your people…" the Elf's strangled cry startled Benoni into silence.

Legolas sank to his knees, dropping the sack unheeded to the side. Torment, loss, rage, and grief battled for mastery. His home, his people, _freedom_… these would never, could never truly be his again. His chains were gone, yet he felt them. They cut at his soul. What home, what people? He had been cast out, rejected, reviled. There was nowhere to go. To suffer the humiliation, the rejection again at the hands of his own people would be far worse than to die a broken slave in a foreign land. He was dead to them, and they to him. Oh, let death come and free him from this suffering!

Benoni watched in horror as the Elf crumpled to the ground, sobbing. He glanced around fearfully. The Elf must leave soon. Dawn was approaching. He crouched next to the Elf and reached to place a comforting hand on the heaving form.

"Please, do not weep. If I can help…" the Elf's fist sent him crashing into the wall. Benoni struggled to catch the breath that seemed unable to return to his body. Fear filled him as he glanced up at the Elf silhouetted in the moonlight. Rage marred the ethereal face, and hatred crackled in his eyes.

"How _dare_ you!"

Benoni could only stare in confused shock.

"How dare you throw in my face the torments that haunt my every moment! I can _never_ go back. I am cut off, sold by my own family. I would surely be killed if I ever returned. Even what _he_ did could not compare to that horror. No, Slave, I am beaten." The rage suddenly faded into despair. "Let me die in peace."

Benoni struggled to stand. His chest throbbed where the Elf had struck him. He feared some of his ribs were broken. He glanced over at the Elf, now huddled against the wall. The Elf's face was turned away from the prairie, from his last chance for freedom. The Elf's behavior astounded Benoni. Benoni gathered up the courage to speak, although he kept his distance this time.

"I do not understand. Surely the Firstborn would not do such…"

"Such what?" bitterness coated every word. "Such wickedness? What do you know of the Eldar? Of what we are capable?" The next whisper Benoni could barely hear. "Of what _I_ am capable."

Self-loathing filled Legolas. "I, who should have been a blessing to my father, was a curse. I alienated my brothers and neglected my duties. I am a disgrace to my father, to my kingdom, to my race." Legolas gave a humorless laugh. "I tyrannized my servants. Now I am the tyrannized servant."

Legolas stared off into the distance then snapped back to the man mutely starring at him. "Do you still doubt? Then look and believe."

Legolas grabbed his tunic and tore it back, exposing his right shoulder. The deep brown dragon contrasted sharply with the cream of his Elven skin. As Legolas looked at it, he felt again the hot iron piercing his flesh. He felt again the burning poison flooding his body. He shuddered and looked away.

"It mars the body, yes, but it cannot mark the soul."

Almost before the man could finish speaking, Legolas had him pinned up against the wall by the throat.

"You know nothing of which you speak! The Eldar do not scar, yet mine remains." Legolas dropped the man to the ground. "It can only mean _he_ truly had the right to place it there. _He_ bought me. I was not captured or kidnapped. I was _sold_. Sold by my own family. I feel its curse sapping my strength, invading my mind. If I left this horrid land, never to return, I would be as much a slave as when _he_ paraded me before the buyers in the market. No, Human, you could never understand the depths of my suffering. My soul is dead; my body must follow. Leave. This is beyond you."

As the Elf spoke, a burning anger began to kindle within Benoni. Truly the Elf had lived through unspeakable horrors. Benoni was also shocked to learn that Saleros had not been lying when he said he had bought the Elf. For this, Benoni had no answer. Yet, his growing anger was not at the cruel slaver but the bitter Elf standing over him.

With great effort, Benoni pushed himself up. Each breath sent a stab of pain through his body. He knew his words would probably cause his death at the Elf's hand, but he felt swept along in a force beyond himself. He could not keep silent.

"You are right. It _is_ beyond me. Moreover, it is beyond _you_ as well." He felt the Elf's eyes boring into him, but he continued, his voice gaining power. "You speak of recognizing the truth about yourself, yet in truth you are blind to it. Perhaps Saleros broke your pride, but you are clinging to the broken pieces with all your might."

"Stop it!" hissed the Elf, but Benoni ignored him.

"When I first saw Saleros drag you into camp, I was horrified at the thought of an Elf in the wicked hands of Saleros. Yet, it is far worse now, seeing an Elf enslaved by the evil passions of his own soul. Perhaps this is the punishment you deserve, I do not know. Yet if it is, then it has been in vain, for you still care only for yourself. You would seek escape through death with no regard for those around you, for the future ahead of you. I do not know much about the Firstborn, but I do know that this is not the way it was meant to be. Your song has not yet ended!"

Legolas howled as he knocked the human to the ground with rapid punches to the face. What could this human know? What could this stupid, ignorant… Suddenly, Legolas froze. As if for the first time, he found himself staring at the man's face. Blood gushed from the man's nose and trickled from his split lips. One cheek was rapidly swelling. But it was the eyes that had arrested Legolas's attention. They did not hold the rage or hatred Legolas had expected. Rather they held profound sorrow—sorrow not for himself, but for Legolas.

All at once, memories of this human crashed in on Legolas-- a human he had disdained so heavily he had not even cared to learn his name, a human who had reached out to him over and over. Legolas suddenly realized that this was the slave who had tried to befriend him back in the slaver's caravan. This was the slave Legolas had mistreated and belittled-- the man who had risked everything to give Legolas the chance for freedom, the man whose face Legolas had just bloodied.

Shocked at his own behavior, Legolas stumbled back-- right into the arms of an approaching guard.

"Got him!" yelled the guard, roughly clamping Legolas's arms behind his back.

Legolas made no attempt to break free; he simply continued to stare at the elderly slave now being helped up by another guard. The man breathed raggedly as he attempted to stand, doubling over from the pain in his ribs and groping blindly for support due to the injuries to his face. Legolas recoiled inwardly from the evidence of his handiwork. What had he done?


	8. Confessions

_I am finally back! Real life has been insanely busy of late, but thanks to the support of my own Prince Charming, I have the day to work on my story. Thank you to all who reviewed. It truly makes a difference to know that other people are as excited about this story as I am. Hope you enjoy!_

_-Mia ^_^_

**Confessions**

The sun had yet to rise when the guards dragged Legolas into what could only be a receiving hall. A few decadent tapestries adorned the stone walls while a gilded chair sat alone on a small dais at the other end of the room. Another guard escorted in the older slave. In a moment, a rumpled Naeem barged in, wrapped in an extravagant evening robe. He glared at the party standing before him. Legolas felt the guard holding his arms shift uncomfortably under the nobleman's scrutiny.

"You roused me at this unholy hour for a _slave_?"

One of the guards, wearing a captain's insignia stepped forward.

"Forgive me, my liege. The Elf was caught outside the palace walls attempting to escape. He assaulted Benoni, who must have been trying to prevent his escape."

"_Benoni_," noted Legolas, "_that must be the human's name." _He felt Naeem's scathing gaze settle on him and quickly lowered his eyes in the proper manner. Legolas shuddered at the thought of what awaited him. Attempted escape always brought the harshest punishment. Saleros had deeply ingrained that lesson. Legolas shied away from the memories. It would do no good to dwell on evil past. He could only reconcile himself to the evil ahead. A raspy voice broke through his thoughts.

"Master, the Elf was not trying to escape." Legolas realized it was the man, Benoni, speaking. "I am the cause of the disturbance, Master. I was trying to set the Elf free, but he resisted."

The courtroom went deathly quiet, incredulous eyes turned on the wheezing slave. None were more shocked than Legolas.

"Are you saying, Slave, that when you tried to release this Elf, he _assaulted_ you? You mock me, Benoni, and I do not like to be mocked."

"Forgive me, Master. I do not mock, but rather confess. I abused the trust you gave me, for I feared for the Elf's life. I stole food from the kitchen and obtained the key to the gate through deceit. I asked the captain of your guard for its use yesterday on pretense, meanwhile planning to use it to free the Elf this evening."

The puzzled nobleman turned to the captain. "Is this true?"

"He did ask me for the key, Master. I assumed it was on your business. It has not yet been returned. Forgive my oversight."

"Oversight indeed. This is outrageous! Benoni, you who received trust, boons from my hand, and food from my table-- I treat you better than any slave should be treated, and this is how you repay me? Off with him. Fifty lashes. If he lives, he can scrub the stables from now on. I want no part with him."

As the guards led Benoni away, Legolas wanted to cry out, to stop them, but his mind failed him with the means. The human's confession had sealed his fate.

"And you, my newest acquisition. You are a mystery that my tired mind cannot reckon with tonight." None dared point out that the sun was already rising. Naeem stared at Legolas then shook his head. "You truly are a fine purchase. As a reward for your faithfulness, I command that you no longer be confined to a cell. Ghazi, see that the Elf is fitted with one of my household tunics. He will attend to me tomorrow."

With that, Naeem retreated to his rooms, muttering to himself and rubbing at his eyes.

Ghazi, captain of the guard, led Legolas out toward the slaves' quarters. As they passed through the courtyard, Legolas stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Benoni chained to a hitching post. The man's back was already a fiery mass of lashes, and the cruel switch continued to fall. Benoni gasped at each stroke, fingers grasping and clenching from their manacled location.

Ghazi pushed Legolas on, but the Elf could not tear his eyes from the grim proceedings. Just as they were leaving the courtyard, Benoni opened his eyes, and Legolas found himself locked in the man's gaze. Even now, the human's eyes held no hate, only pain and a resigned sorrow. Another lash ended the moment, as Benoni was thrown into the post. He clutched at the post, leaning his head against the rough wood. He did not reopen his eyes, and Legolas was dragged on. However, Legolas still felt as if those sorrow-filled eyes were upon him, laying bare his soul.

Through winding corridors that Legolas barely registered, the two made their way to the back of the compound. The rancid smell of aged manure announced the presence of the stables nearby. Just down from the stables, a smaller building squatted against the back wall. An orange glow emanated from the heart of the gloomy structure. _Katchink, kathak, katchink, katchink_.

As Ghazi led Legolas into the building, the smithy plunged the lump of glowing metal into a barrel of water. Leaving his work submerged, the dark eyed man turned to face the newcomers. Ghazi pushed his charge forward.

"Fit him. I wouldn't want this backstabber anywhere near me, but Naeem wants him for an attendant. Guess that's his business."

Ewald, the blacksmith, scrutinized the strange being before him. He noticed how the Elf flinched at Ghazi's words. The news of the morning's proceedings had spread with the rising sun, and all knew of the Elf's refusal to escape. They also knew Benoni's fate. Gruffly, the craftsman grabbed Legolas by the wrist noting the thinness as well as the sinewy strength.

"Hold him."

Ghazi grabbed Legolas by the shoulders and pushed him over to the scarred anvil. Ewald returned with several metal loops of various sizes. He grabbed the Elf's arm and fitted one of the smaller ones around his wrist.

Until now, Legolas had remained lost in his inner turmoil, but the cold metal against his skin jerked him back to the outside world. He pulled back from the hated touch, stifling a cry. Ghazi delivered a swift punch to Legolas's ribs and pushed him down over the anvil.

"Now you protest? You had your chance, Elf. Your little stunt might have impressed the Master, but clearly you are nothing but a pathetic slave."

Ewald hammered the manacle closed around Legolas's wrist then held a heated poker to the edges forging them closed.

"And you always will be nothing but a slave," growled Ghazi.

Legolas hissed from the burning heat against his wrist, but he did not cry out. He was familiar with this kind of pain. He almost welcomed it as a relief from his tortured musings. Heat seared along the side of his neck as a new collar was welded on. At last, Ghazi shifted his weight and allowed Legolas to stand.

Legolas absently fingered the heavy iron collar. A small loop stuck out where a chain could be hooked if required. Small loops for the same purpose also protruded from the iron manacles now enclosing his wrists. Legolas gazed at them, feeling their weight settle far deeper than his skin. The despair he had left behind came flooding back, but a pair of hazel eyes filled with sorrow halted the deluge. Suddenly, the chains seemed a petty thing over which to despair.


	9. All One's Worth

All One's Worth

Benoni woke to a thousand pains roaring for supremacy. When he sucked in an agonized breath, his body convulsed in wet coughs that only served to further aggravate his many wounds. He wondered dazedly how it was that a body could hurt so greatly and still live.

A rough wooden cup touched his lips, and Benoni drank greedily. He nearly spit the liquid out when its bitter taste registered in his senses, but the hand holding the cup kept it firmly in place until the man had swallowed the last mouthful. The hand then removed the cup and gently wiped away the dribbles running through Benoni's now ragged beard. A damp cloth began to gently wash away the dried blood covering the wrinkled face. A warm buzzing seemed to emanate from his stomach, and Benoni surrendered himself to the blissfully senseless void.

When Benoni regained consciousness, his wounds still assaulted him, but they seemed muted somehow. After a moment, his fuzzy mind realized his torso was wound with soothingly wet bandages.

A hand brushed against his brow, removing the cloth that had been covering it. Benoni struggled to open his eyes. At last, his body obeyed, and his hazel eyes blinked open just in time to lock gazes with the ethereal blue eyes of the Elf. Benoni gasped in shock, sending his body into a fit of coughing.

The Elf quickly brought a cup filled with a brownish liquid and held it to the man's parched lips. Remembering the soothing affect from before, Benoni drank willingly, and the cough soon subsided. The Elf eased the old man back down on the cot and checked to make sure none of the bandages had come loose. Benoni followed the Elf's movements with increasing confusion. His tired mind refused to make sense of the evidence before him.

At last the Elf turned to meet Benoni's gaze. A thousand unsaid questions echoed in the room. The Elf spoke first.

"Why?"

An eternity passed in the moments Benoni took to find words. When at last he spoke, his ragged whisper could only have been heard by the keen ears of an Elf.

"A life's worth is not to be taken lightly."

Answering expended Benoni's remaining strength, and once again the man sank into unconsciousness.

Legolas stared at the wizened figure till long after the man's breathing deepened.

The crash of the wooden door against the stone wall jerked Legolas from his thoughts and announced the entrance of Ghazi.

"Come on, Elf," barked the captain.

"Could you not enter quietly? The man sleeps," snipped Legolas, his regard for the human dropping even lower.

Ghazi recoiled in shock at the Elf's words. He glanced at the sleeping form, taking note of the bandages.

" You Elves are strange folk. You nearly kill the man for helping you, then nurse him back to health. You're gonna be fun to have around."

Legolas dropped his eyes, squeezing his fists at his sides to keep his wildly pounding emotions at bay. He did not need the cynical comments from a passing guard to bring his folly to his mind. He had enough accusing voices in his own mind for that.

"Get going," growled Ghazi, grabbing Legolas by the arm and pushing him through the door. "You've been summoned, and the master doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Legolas followed the captain through the corridors, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. The voices railed inside him, as they had since the previous morning -- as they had since Saleros broke down the walls of his soul.

Suddenly, a new voice spoke, and all the others quieted for a moment. "A life's worth …" Benoni's words tore through Legolas afresh. What did the human mean? Legolas longed for the human to awake. They had much of which to speak.

The pair stopped outside the carved oak door that led to Naeem's receiving room. Ghazi cast a critical glance over Legolas's attire. The Elf wore a deep brown sleeveless tunic that bore Naeem's insignia: a rayed sun emerging from rippling waves. He also wore loose midnight blue pants with a cream colored sash wrapped tightly about his middle. Leather sandals adorned his dusty feet. His hair hung loose about his shoulders. Even with the simple dress and obvious symbols of slavery, the Elf would never be mistaken for a human. Something intangible set him apart.

"Guess you'll do," muttered Ghazi as he pushed the door open.

Naeem sat on a gilded chair that rested upon a small dais at the far end of the room. Ghazi led the way in, then motioned for Legolas to continue forward while he took up his post guarding the door. Legolas walked three quarters of the way to the dais then knelt with head bowed, much as one of his father's subjects might have done in Thranduil's throne room. Legolas whisked the thought away. Those days were no more.

Legolas spoke, "You summoned me, Master?"

Naeem burst out laughing, nearly causing Legolas to look up and break protocol. Instead Legolas tightened his fingers about his knees to keep his rising shame at bay.

"Saleros does know his work! Tamed you well, didn't he? Who would have thought it possible to tame an Elf!" Naeem roared again in laughter.

Legolas wished he could cover his ears to block out the mocking laughter, but invisible chains kept his arms where they were.

Calming himself, Naeem again addressed Legolas. "So, my fine purchase, what is your name?"

"Legolas" whispered the kneeling captive, not raising his eyes even then.

"Le-gu, Le-go ... what? That ungainly nonsense won't do at all. You need a proper name. One that the mouth can hold. Hmm.... I wonder what would be appropriate?"

"How about Thuan," quipped a voice from the back of the room.

Legolas glanced from the corner of his eyes at the young human who could be none other than Naeem's son.

"Tamed?" remarked Naeem. He turned his gaze from the smug expression of his son, to the subservient Elf. "Tamed. Yes, perfect choice, Numair. Indeed, I posses the only tamed Elf in Arda. Thuan, this is your new name. You are never to utter that other ridiculous name again."

No sound could escape from Legolas's throat that suddenly felt so constricted he could barely breathe. Instead, Legolas-Thuan bowed low before his master, acknowledging Naeem's pronouncement. As his forehead brushed the cold stone of the floor, the last shreds of his identity seemed to be snatched into their depths. The green woods harbor that which is wild and free. The indifferent stone of men's dwellings are for the tamed creatures-- creatures such as Thuan.


	10. Idle Words

_Thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers! Your encouragement means so much to me. I would also like to thank Littlefish and my own Prince Charming for betaing this chapter._

_Please bear with me on the shortness of the chapter. The next one will be much longer, I promise! ^_^_

**Idle Words**

Benoni awoke to the creak of the door. The Elf entered with his head bowed so his wispy blond hair partially hid his face. Keeping his eyes averted, the ethereal captive withdrew to the corner of the room and began rummaging through various bottles on a small table. The sound of liquid being poured reminded Benoni of his raging thirst. He eagerly drank the herbal water the Elf brought him. Again, the aching human felt the soothing relief of whatever concoction the Elf had made.

Benoni settled back on his stomach, but propped his head up so he could still see the Elf, although he seemed to be avoiding Benoni's glance.

"Thank you," croaked Benoni.

The Elf's head shot up, eyes widened slightly. He quickly dropped his head again and focused intently on the herbs he was wrapping.

"I have done nothing worth praise."

An awkward silence laden with memories descended on the room.

Benoni decided to take the conversation in a different direction. "I am not familiar in the ways of the Elves, so forgive me if this is against your customs. I would be honored to know your name. I do not want to keep thinking of you as 'the Elf.'"

The Elf tensed, clasping the cup he happened to be holding so tightly that it shattered. Benoni flinched, fear rising up within him. However, the Elf's anger shattered with the vessel and his shoulders drooped as he began picking up the pieces.

"Thuan."

"Thu…, but that is a Rhun…"

"It is my name," hissed Thuan, turning flashing eyes on Benoni, but the anger could not wholly hide the shame and loss.

Benoni mourned quietly for the Elf. He realized the name had been given to him, whether by Saleros or Naeem he did not know.

"Very well, you who are Thuan, and yet are not. I will call you by this name since it is your wish, but if ever you so choose, I would be honored to know your true name."

Thuan began to tremble from where he was kneeling to clean up the pieces. Abruptly, he let them fall from his hands and with surprising swiftness moved to Benoni's bedside. He knelt before the startled human. Long held-back tears streamed from the Elf's eyes as he clasped the elderly man's hand.

"Forgive me. Please, please, forgive me," Choking sobs prevented further speech, and Thuan let his head droop against the withered hand as he cried.

Benoni struggled up into a sitting position and cradled Thuan's head to his chest. He gently rocked the sobbing Elf, stroking his head much as he had once stroked his own son's long ago. Benoni held Thuan far into the night while he grieved over hurts, tortures, losses old and recent, and the scourging despair of a soul so far from what it was meant to be.

It was past midnight when Thuan's lament began to lull, though his head still hung heavy with despair against Benoni's chest. Sweeping wet strands of hair back from the Elf's face, Benoni leaned over and whispered, "Do not despair that all is lost. Perhaps you have lost in order that you might gain. Sometimes our hearts must be broken before we allow Iluvatar's song in where it ought to have been from the beginning. You are not beyond His song, even here. Perhaps it is here you will learn what it means to sing."

Thuan pushed away, dashing away the tears. "He has no part of this, and if He did then He is no being worth anyone's devotion." Thuan's irreverent words shocked even himself, but the outrage over all that had happened refused to let him repeal them. Frustrated, he turned his ire on the human who had provoked his tirade. "What would you know? You don't know what I've been through. You've had it easy. You almost enjoy being a slave!"

"Do I?" asked Benoni quietly.

Thuan glanced over at the human. Bruises and abrasions could be seen on almost ever part of Benoni's exposed skin. Blood had begun to seep through the bandages that covered his torso, and the human's breathing came raggedly. Thuan turned away, ashamed.

"I do not speak idle words, Thuan. It is true that you have endured much tragedy, but so have I." Benoni broke off, unable to continue for a moment. The ache of old memories seemed to awaken the aches of Benoni's injuries. Physical and mental exhaustion pulled at the old man. He had given all of himself he could for the night. Benoni lowered himself down on the cot, groaning as his body settled on the hard mat. A light touch on his shoulder brought his attention back to the room's other occupant.

Thuan held out a small bowl filled with the healing liquid. Though he refused to meet Benoni's gaze, he held the bowl to the human's lips while the man drank. Thuan turned away as soon as Benoni finished, but the man clasped Thuan's hand, keeping him close a moment longer. The Elf halted, but kept his face turned away.

"Thuan, I forgive you."

Thuan glanced back at the bandaged human with raw eyes before pulling free and fleeing the room. Once out in the hall, Thuan walked faster and faster until he began to run. Yet as fast as his feet flew, they could not outrun the rising blaze within his soul.


	11. The Song of Iluvatar

_I could never have written this chapter, or this story really, except for a desperate night and a silent voice that shattered me with grace. Instead of a gentle old man to trigger the flood, I had the ancient words of a shepherd king recorded in Psalm 31. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend that you do, particularly verse 22. If you have read it, read it again. You'll be glad you did._

**The Song of Iluvatar**

_I forgive you._

Every fiber rejected it.

_I forgive you._

It wasn't possible.

_I forgive you._

Why did he need to be forgiven anyway?

_I forgive you. _

Was it even possible after everything?

_I forgive you._

You can't! I don't want to be forgiven!

_I forgive you._

Please, let it be true.

_I forgive you._

Wordless groans erupted from his very soul. Agony and rage. Resentment and penitence. Despair and hope. The fire of it all blazed within him, consuming him. He did not see the blur of rock rushing by. He took no notice of hallways or doors, courtyards or shadowy dwellings. He must run, release some of the fierce energy or it would surely destroy him. It might anyway.

The outer wall loomed like a jailer's cloak out of the night. The impassible mass brought him to a skidding halt. Kneeling in the dust, he gasped for air while his whole body quivered with the inferno that rose with every passing moment. How dare this cold stone block his flight?! How dare anything stand before the blaze?! He beat the stones with his bare palms, howling wordless curses at them, yet still the inner fire grew until he knew he must fly or perish.

He leaped to his feet and glared at the obscenity that stalled his flight. What was this pathetic structure to him? Was he not a wood Elf?

With that, Thuan launched himself at the wall. Fingertips caught in the meager cracks and clung tight. With a howl, he climbed fingertip by bloody fingertip, toe-tip by bloody toe-tip, till his entire shaking hand could grab the top of the wall. With a last heave, the exultant wood Elf stood triumphant atop the wall.

With a wild grin that held no mirth, and flashing eyes that barely saw, Thuan spared only a moment's backward glance before launching himself through the air. Only an Elf would have survived such a leap, but such he was and a wood Elf at that. He rolled into the impact with the grassy turf, regained his feet, and sped through the moonlit grass with hardly a trace of his passing.

The fiery maelstrom that had ignited his mad flight began to cool with the predawn breeze. As the anger ebbed, the despair grew until Thuan finally collapsed sobbing under its weight . The dry prairie grass stood taller than his huddled form. It scraped and tapped him with rough stalks painted silver by the moon.

Thuan beat the red dirt with bloodied fists. He screamed his torment at the indifferent ground. Awash with the ghosts of Saleros's horrors, he felt the thud, the crack, the scrape, the slice, and the lash of countless tortures. He felt afresh the burn- the brand that traced out his everlasting shame for all to see. Again he felt the brush of that hated hand, more terrible than any club or whip. It traced his scar, followed his neck around, and grabbed hold of his chin like he was a wayward child. At first he had struggled so to break that hold! At the last, he had struggled not to cower in terror before his tamer.

_You have done this. What must it have taken to make you so despised? You know. You know. Outcast. You were a mistake. A blot that must be purged from your race. You are not fit to even be called an Elf!_

As before in Saleros's dungeon, a flood of memories crushed the wretched slave beneath their inescapable conviction.

"_Ada, look at how well I am learning to handle my blade!" shouted Cuthelion, as he burst into Thranduil's office. The king looked up from his scrolls, affronted by the impudent entry. But the sheer delight on his middle son's face melted away his ire, and Thranduil turned away from his work for a rare moment alone with Cuthelion._

_Beaming, the youth carefully repeated the sword maneuvers he had learned that morning. A rare smile played on Thranduil's lips as he watched his son's focused, though obviously newfound skills._

_Legolas halted mid skip at Thranduil's door, his intended tale of a mischievous squirrel vanishing from his mind as he beheld his father's rapt attention to his older brother. Suddenly, Legolas was filled with unreasonable jealousy that anyone but himself should hold Thranduil's attention so._

_Though still a child, Legolas knew better than to barge in on his father when he was in an audience (even if it was only with his brother). Thranduil must come to him. Sneaking back down the hallway a few paces, Legolas again began to skip toward Thranduil's chambers. Only this time, he made sure that he fell just as he came to the door, letting out a louder yelp than his minor scrape warranted._

_His plan worked perfectly. Thranduil jumped up, startling Cuthelion into dropping his beloved sword._

"_Be careful, Cuthelion!" scolded Thranduil on his way out._

_Thranduil hurried to the whimpering Legolas and scooped him into his arms, checking him over to assure himself the boy was in no dire peril. Though only a small scrape was found, Thranduil insisted on taking Legolas down to the healer just in case._

_As he was being carried away, Legolas glanced back at Cuthelion. The bereft child watched in utter despair as his father left him behind unheeded. Dashing tears from his eyes, Cuthelion knelt to retrieve his sword. His shoulders shook with suppressed sobs._

_Legolas tore his eyes from his brother, guilt springing up inside him. He almost told Thranduil that he could go to the healer himself. Almost._

Next, the Elf slave saw Cuthelion's enraged face advancing on him in the guard post. His brother's accusations on that day had been correct. He was indeed a devious thief of all that should have been theirs. He deserved everything that had happened.

The guilt of it all crushed down on him until he literally felt he was suffocating beneath it all.

_I forgive you._

Thuan gasped. The phrase cut through him like a warrior's blade. It seared him more than the slaver's brand. He deserved that judgment. He did not deserve this forgiveness.

_I forgive you._

Like a master's arrow it penetrated to the very core of his being. The weight of that one phrase seemed greater than all the guilt that had threatened to suffocate him only moments earlier. He could wallow in self-loathing and regrets indefinitely. But this, this demanded a response.

How could Benoni forgive him after Thuan betrayed the human for trying to help him? The staggering questions swirled within Thuan's mind till he was dizzy and disoriented.

Exhausted, broken, and defenseless- Thuan crumpled on the ground, too spent even for tears. With the last ember of his internal inferno, Thuan whispered to the wind, "Why?"

The last thing he expected was an answer.

He lay with one ear against the earth, now damp with morning dew or tears, it didn't matter which. Emptied of every emotion, too tired for rational thought, Thuan began to focus outward, letting his senses take in his surroundings though his mind took no pains to interpret them. Then, he heard the earth.

The deep thrumming was more felt than heard, but it played on nonetheless. The Elf had grown up in the vast forests of Greenwood, whose trees sang to the Elves and responded to the Elves' songs. He had never had to try to hear their voices, so in a way he had never learned to listen.

The earth sang differently, deep and slow. Thuan found himself straining to catch the faint notes. The earth lamented. It had drunk the blood of too many innocents. Too many greedy hands had plundered its treasures, leaving only devastation behind. In discordant notes, it groaned under its oppression.

A slender blade of grass whispered past Thuan's ear, and suddenly Legolas realized the grass sang too. In hushed murmurs, it sang a capricious song as only the fleeting can. But a little time, and the grass would be gone, so it must rejoice in the time it had. Any sorrow it felt could only last a moment. It must dance in the wind beneath the moonlight while it may, for tomorrow might never come.

The moon's melody, like a shimmering harp sang in tones high as the heavens of what lie beyond the horizon: a shadow, then turning, hope in the morning.

In awe, Thuan could only listen as a thousand melodies he had never taken the time to hear before began to register within him. For a moment they all seemed to clash, the discordant notes marring the glistening ballad. Then, like silent thunder the Elf suddenly heard it all. And it was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced. It was perfect. What had at first seemed an irreconcilable clash was actually the most complex, thrilling, brilliant harmony he had ever heard. It was a composition of ultimate brilliance and beauty, all the more so because of the earth's lamenting notes, not in spite of them.

"Why?" whispered the moon as he slipped below the horizon. "Why," echoed the prairie to him. "Why!" answered the sun as she blazed out in all her glory from the grassy sea, now golden in the morning light. The song of Iluvatar surrounded him, washed over him, poured through him, and wove him into its glory. The Elf found himself carried along in its fervor

Unbidden, a song whispered through his lips, the first in more than a year, and it was like no song he had ever sung before. It came from somewhere beyond the mind, beyond mere emotion. In humbled honesty, he sang his guilt to the winds and the keeper of the winds. He lamented all he had traded away and all that had been ripped from him to the earth and the molder of the earth. He traced the mottled paths of his life to the wandering sun and to the sender of the sun. At last he choked out the baffling words spoken by chapped human lips, and the whole of nature swelled to a breathtaking crescendo. _I forgive you!_

The Elf Legolas suddenly felt a warmth that could have been a homecoming embrace or maybe only the sun's beams on his shoulders or perhaps both. He felt the chains inside his soul snap like twigs before a storm. Legolas fell flat on his face, breathless at the sudden release. Free. He was _free_.


	12. Crossroads

_Author's note: Please pardon the long wait. I blame a combination of writer's block and busy schedule. Thank you so much to all who reviewed. Your comments spurred me on in my writing. ^_^ Sincere thanks also goes to my wonderful, encouraging Beta reader, Larael._

**Crossroads**

_For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? -- Matthew 16:26_

Legolas lay flat on his back beneath the blue sky and laughed. He laughed with the sheer joy of a child who has been lost in the dark woods and finally sees the lights of home. At last his joy burst forth into motion, and the lighthearted Elf leapt to his feet. Suddenly bereft of the weight within his soul, he felt he might almost fly away. Turning his face to the ever-lightening western sky, Legolas let his feet carry him away from all the turmoil behind him.

Ten steps later, he slammed to a halt. _Benoni_. Naeem would certainly kill the old man when Legolas's absence was discovered. He glanced back towards the dismal human dwellings. The walls stood black and ominous against the morning sun.

How could he go back to that? Legolas turned back to the West, still smudged with night along the horizon. Suddenly, that patch of night seemed like an impregnable fortress. There was no home for him on the other side. His brother's hated him and for good cause. He was a shame to his father and a blight on his race. No Elf would take in such a one as him. A small pocket of the weight he had so recently cast off settled back within him. How could they forgive all that he had done?

With this thought, his mind again turned to the wizened man that had indeed forgiven him beyond all reason. He could not, he would not, let Benoni suffer on his account again. Legolas had spent his whole life thinking of nothing but himself; it was time for a change. He had finally glimpsed a magnificent world outside of his own self, and he would not retreat from walking in it so soon.

Legolas started back. Though his steps lacked the lightness of earlier, they had gained the resolute steadiness of one finally at peace with their decision. He refused to let himself dwell on the darkness ahead, but rather, focused on the face of the one in its midst. What he would do when he got to the city was not clear to the Elf, though his mind raced through the possibilities. Perhaps after he helped Benoni escape, the two of them could carve out a life for themselves in some secluded corner of Arda. Legolas shrugged the thought away. First things first, the two had to escape.

Legolas hadn't realized how far he had run the night before, and it was midmorning by the time he reached the walls of Naeem's estate. He glanced uneasily up at the sky, praying fervently that his presence hadn't been missed, though he knew the chances of that were slim. Bereft of the previous night's inferno, the Elf found the climb back over the wall to be rather challenging. Nevertheless, he reached the top at last.

Checking to be sure none were around to witness his reentry, Legolas dropped from the wall into the compound. He found himself near the blacksmith's shop and, quickly getting his bearings, slipped away to the slaves' quarters.

Legolas's heart hammered in his chest as he opened the door to Benoni's room, fearful of what he might find. But the old man slept peacefully on his cot, and Legolas let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He moved quickly to Benoni's side and shook him gently.

"Awake, friend. Forgive me for disturbing your rest, but you must rise quickly."

Aroused by the urgent tone, Benoni's eyes blinked open. Finding the Elf kneeling before him, he jerked upright and immediately regretted the abrupt movement as his body came alive with agony. Gritting his teeth against the onslaught, Benoni struggled to remain conscious. Fortunately, after a rough moment or two, the pains eased enough for the man to turn his attention again to the outside world.

He marveled at the Elf kneeling before him with bright eyes full of concern. The Elf's entire body seemed brighter, almost glowing, and the air about him no longer felt of death. "Something has happened," whispered Benoni. "You are… changed somehow."

Legolas startled at the man's words- astonished at his perceptiveness. "Indeed, it is true, and no small thanks to you. Yet I fear we have no time to discuss this at present. I have come to take you away. We will flee this wretched country to life away from walls and chains. Come!"

Legolas grabbed Benoni by the arm and helped him to his feet. But aching legs, aged by time and abuse, refused to be propelled into action so abruptly, and the man sagged heavily against the Elf. Legolas eased Benoni down then rushed to the table where he had left the herbs to make the numbing concoction.

"I'm sorry I can't give you the full dose, or you'll go to sleep again. But perhaps I can give you a small sip to dull the pain slightly. I think we might be able to hide out in the cart headed to town in a few minutes. Naeem was displeased with this shipment of wine, and several barrels…"

"Thuan!"

Benoni's voice finally broke through into Legolas's consciousness, and the Elf turned to the still kneeling man.

"Thuan, I am touched at the core of my being by your desires to free me... but I cannot go."

Legolas gaped at the man, speechless. Benoni dropped his eyes from the Elf's penetrating gaze. "I do not deny that the thought of freedom quickens the beat of my heart and flits through my spirit like lightning. But I have not the strength for such an attempt. Even were I hale and whole, I would be hard pressed to perform such feats as would be needed, and I am far from hale and whole.''

"I'll carry you or…"

Benoni cut short the Elf's protests with a raised hand.

"More than that, Thuan, I could not bear to bring down wrath on those left behind that such an escape would surely do. Many are the lives that suffer, when one slave escapes."

Legolas stared at Benoni. His body suddenly forgot how to think, how to breathe. "_This cannot be!"_ wailed his soul, all too soon bereft of its newfound hope.

"I came back for you," whispered Legolas.

Benoni's head dropped, and when at last he could return the Elf's gaze, the man's eyes were full of tears overflowing from a heart broken by the tragedy of world marred by evil.

"Oh, I long for the day when all will be made right! When will men's hearts at last be purged from their evil and turn at last to the light? Thuan…" Benoni clasped Legolas to his chest, and Legolas clung to the old man as he once had clung to his own father when he first realized that this world could take things that none could give back.

"Forgive me. Please forgive me, Thuan. Oh how I long to do as you say, but I cannot! I must not. You perhaps have not yet seen the aftermath of an escape, but, alas, I have. Any who were dear or even might have been friends with the one who escapes are tortured, maimed, or sometimes killed. I have been in Naeem's household two years. There are many who would suffer for my gain; not a few who are women and children. No, Thuan, not for my own heart, nor even for an Eldar could I bear to cause such pain. Forgive me."

Legolas pulled back from the man's embrace. Wrinkled cheeks glistened from the tears that streamed into the scraggly gray beard. Multicolored bruises framed the glistening eyes. Nevertheless, as before, the hazel eyes portrayed conviction deeper than the profound sorrow.

"You truly are a great man," marveled Legolas. He could think of nothing else to be said. How could he fault Benoni for caring more about others than himself, even though the man's refusal to escape put Legolas in a difficult position of his own? If Benoni would not go, how could he? Yet, how could he bear to stay? Was one man's life really worth such a sacrifice?

Legolas gazed long into the hazel eyes of Benoni. His whole flesh cried out to him to flee, forgetting whatever fool refused to do the same. However the voice of the song so recently awakened within him would not be silenced, would not be ignored, would not be ignorant. In truth, there was only one choice.

"If you will not come with me, then I must stay with you."


	13. Songs of Time

_Oh the difference one decision can make!_ Legolas leaned back against the cold stone of the fortress wall and propped his head for the best view of the stars. They glimmered and sang from their lofty heights untouched by the weight of the world. Yet somehow the ethereal lights gave him hope, now as they had for so many years. _So many years… _ Legolas laughed quietly to himself. _Years should have no weight for an Elf as young as me, but they do. Too much time with humans I suppose. _Legolas's spirits darkened again. _Decisions. _He gazed back to the stars for inspiration, for such he desperately needed tonight, much as he had needed it so long ago when the consequence of decisions was first sinking in.

#####

_Bright is the light of your song  
__As you soar beyond all the broken  
__And shattered below  
__No barrier bars your circuitous path  
__No chain cumbers your ethereal dance_

_But here in darkness I lie  
__Bereft of the heart to dance_

Legolas let the lamenting strains of his song roll from his tongue in hushed tones as he rocked gently in tempo. The planked roof over the courtyard well where he perched threw a blanket of shadow over his slender form, but the Elf was situated so that it did not obstruct his view of the glistening stars and their radiant leader.

Benoni's body murmured sharply against the old man's venture into the night, but he could not rest until he knew Thuan's fate. If the Elf had chosen to flee indeed, Benoni would not hold it against him though he knew it meant his own doom. He feared more that the Elf might be languishing under some punishment and that despair might again claim hold. The old man nearly missed the Elf, so well concealed was the lithe form in the shadows, but a sudden gust of night air flung a stray lock of golden hair into the moonlight. Thuan seemed to take no notice of the wayward strands, but remained with his head resting wearily upon drawn up knees. Benoni tried to approach quietly in order to avoid disturbing the Elf, but his aching legs refused to do more than shuffle. The sound caused the Elf to jerk his head up guiltily, barely concealed fear betrayed in his eyes. Benoni's heart broke for the being who should have never known the fear of the master's step. Silently, the man continued to a spot near the Elf's side and gazed long at the host glimmering in the blackness. After a moment of uncertainty, the Elf also turned his attention to the heavens.

Benoni glanced over at the Elf (he could hardly bear to think of him as Thuan) and grieved silently over the fresh evidences of abuse covering the fair skin. He noted too the tiny crinkles of heartfelt yearning that lent age to young eyes. Again he cursed the depravity of his own race. Why Iluvatar did not just blast the blights of the world into eternity was beyond him. Yet, if the Singer permitted his song to go so then perhaps the eyes of the All-knowing saw more than the watery eyes of an old man. Benoni smiled to himself at the thought. Though he may despair at the travesty of the world, he clung firmer yet to the conquering grace of the almighty. Benoni's eyes were again drawn to the heavens.

"It is the darkness that causes their brilliance," muttered Benoni, hardly realizing that he'd spoken aloud. The Elf, of course, heard his whisper and turned confused eyes on Benoni. "Invisible in the glorious light of day, the delicate light of the stars is only revealed in the darkest night." Benoni met the guarded eyes of the Elf with one full of tender compassion. "I know not why you must walk through this dark night, but I know that the result of this weary road lies in your power to shape."

"Power? I am but the insignificant chattel of a nobleman."

"True - you may not control if or when you eat, drink, work, or rest, but that control is one easily gained or taken. Even those who wear not the chains of a slave often find such things beyond their control. No, the power of which I speak is one you alone have the power to wield and none can take it from you, though they may deceive you into thinking they have."

"You speak the riddles of wizards, Benoni, though I hardly expected to find one here."

Benoni laughed quietly. "I am honored by the comparison, though you may not have intended such a compliment. I am no wizard, though long ago I once had the company of one." Benoni slipped for a moment into thoughtful reverie of that life that seemed an eternity ago and another person entirely. "But that is not a tale for tonight, though perhaps what I share now I learned in part then. What I speak of is the power of response. Not a response of words or deeds, for those too may be commanded by another, but rather a response in your own soul. In this twilight, you will either let the rage of bitter resentment consume your very soul till it falls into oblivion or you will let the fire of horrific circumstances borne with grace and compassion refine the dross away till all that is left is pure light."

Legolas was again consumed in the turmoil of his mind at Benoni's words. _Did he not have the right to resent the treatment given him? Yet was that right worth giving up in favor of some greater glory?_ His mind turned again to the song the stars and earth wove together that had lifted him beyond himself and allowed him to take part in something so much more magnificent than anything he could ever have conjured on his own. Was this what Benoni spoke of? The fleeting satisfaction of hatred could never compare to that splendor. The darkness of the walls seemed to rise up in protest to this new hope.

"Can such light come from such darkness? Surely it cannot be so."

"All was once darkness before the song of Iluvatar gave it light and shape and life. As an Eldar you must surely realize that this present darkness is but a fleeting shadow and night cannot last so long that morning never comes. I know not what roads you may take in your immortal life, but I feel they are not destined to end in the dungeons of a backwoods nobleman. Out of the ashes new life arises. Released by fire, new life awakens to bring the green leaves once again."

Legolas jerked upon hearing Benoni's final words - could the human know ... but that could not be the case. Green leaf. Legolas had indeed seen the tiny shoots of green stalwartly pushing through lifeless ash, for more than once had Orcs set fire to areas of the forest. Yet the ground never stayed barren for long, and the Elves lent what strength they could to the tiny horde till they grew tall and branches unfurled their bounty once more. Perhaps… Perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps one day he would no longer toil as a tamed slave but dance like the green leaves.

"My name," he whispered with gathering defiance to the dark, "is Legolas." He met Benoni's bright gaze. "In your tongue, it means 'green-leaf.'"

Benoni bowed low. "Well met, Master Green-leaf, well met."

#####

Legolas smiled to himself even as his eyes filled. _Well met indeed, Grandfather. And you were there to ensure that those green leaves did awaken. And they say that I am the plant charmer!_ Legolas let his hand wander through the budding grass at his side. He felt the whisper of each against his skin and within his soul. He pushed deeper till his fingers dug into the damp earth alive with the thrum of countless seasons of growth and death and life reborn.

#####

The hoe beat against the hardened soil, cracking through the surface. It took a long time before the last rocky crust was pummeled into dust. Amidst the broken earth lay the fading greenery of various grasses and weeds. Leaves withered to dust under the harsh sun, but some roots still remained deep beneath the surface.

Night fell and brought howling winds that whispered across the exposed earth threatening to carry it to oblivion, but the rain came too. Each sweet drop penetrated deep into soil that had been locked away from its vital refreshment for so very long. The water soaked into the dust bringing life.

Morning came, and the real work began. The soft, shapeless mud was pushed and pulled, troughed and mounded till firm rows began to emerge giving definition and character. At last the soil was ready.

Legolas carefully scooped the wet earth over the small hole, concealing the tiny seed from view. Then, sitting back on his heels, he surveyed the evidence of his handiwork. Scores of neat rows, carefully spaced and labeled glimmered in the midmorning sun while the pungent smell of decaying matter and burgeoning life filled his lungs, refreshing him. He basked in these evidences of spring, each breath an eternity of contented joy.

"You're gonna take root and sprout yerself, if you don't git."

Legolas glanced up at the willowy woman scowling down at him and shot her his most charming smile.

"My dearest Eza, I know that in such an event, I would be in the best of care."

Eza huffed and turned away at the Elf's insolence, but the lines around her eyes and mouth loosened ever so slightly.

"Suit yerself, but if you want sum grub then ya'd better shift yerself in a hurry. Not all of us has the time to waller."

Legolas grinned and bobbed his head in acquiescence to her advice, although Eza's back was already turned to him as she headed back to the manor. He turned a last lingering look upon the vibrant field primed for life and buzzing with a thousand harmonies of which most Second Born could only discern a scant few. The song was alive. He was alive! The Elf laughed out-loud for the sheer joy of it all, and with a melody whistling about his lips he whirled about and sprinted toward the human dwelling.

_If only Benoni could hear it all!_ Legolas had tried many times to explain Iluvatar's song, but while the older man was a rapt audience and firm believer, his mortal body could only detect the barest echoes where Legolas could bask in the symphony of each note. _Ah well, I will simply have to sing as much of it as I can to him later. I think he will particularly like the birds' song this morning._

As Legolas passed through the gate, he felt a shift in the mood and the prickling of danger. Slowing his gait, he surreptitiously cast about the courtyard for the source of the warning. He did not have to search long. _Numair_. The other slaves did not need the senses of the Eldar to know to keep away as much as possible from the temperamental, arrogant heir. The slave holding Numair's horse while he dismounted could barely restrain the cringe such proximity seemed to persistently inspire. Just then, three more horses clattered in from the far gate and slid to a halt. Legolas tensed and quickly slipped into the shadows. Numair's particular love of tormenting the Elf exponentially increased whenever his "friends" were around.

Legolas was about to slip around the back of the slaves' quarters for safer ground when he spied Benoni near the main house. The older man patted a quaking youth on the shoulder and sent him back to the kitchen while he went on to serve the raucous party in the lad's place. _Benoni!_ Legolas almost groaned audibly before catching himself. _The man must think he is Elendil reborn the way he incessantly intervenes! _Legolas could not suppress a small smile of admiration, however.

By this time Benoni was holding, or at least trying to hold, one of the more rotund rabble's stallion. Unfortunately, the inept youth kept alternately gouging the frazzled horses sides and jerking on the bit as the poor animal attempted to escape its tormentor. At last, with a shriek of rage and fear, it exploded upward in a crow hop before rearing straight up, nearly enough to fall over backward. Unseated by the unexpected maneuver, the young noble found himself ignobly dumped on the courtyard stone, much to his companions' amusement. Amidst the shouts and howls of laughter, the young man, wounded more in pride than physically, sprang up with a roar of anger and began whaling on the desperately retreating stallion and Benoni who was still trying to calm the situation.

"Worthless, stupid old slave! I'll kill you! You did it on purpose; you spooked my horse on purpose! I'll kill you both! Stupid, old…"

"Stop!" The edge of authority in the one word brought the whole courtyard to an instantaneous standstill. Even the stallion froze in his tracks. For a moment, no one was sure where the command had originated, until Legolas stepped out into the sunlight. Despite ingrained dirt and a painfully thin frame barely covered by a threadbare, sleeveless tunic and patched breeches, the Elf commanded the attention and awe of all who looked on. The very air about the Eldar seemed to thrum with unseen power, and when his clear blue eyes locked on to the flagrant noble with their piercing gaze, the young man actually squeaked with fright.

"The blame is yours alone. Anyone so incompetent with an animal should be banned from its use."

The nobleman squeaked again, only this time from indignation as his faced turned alternate shades of livid purple and embarrassed red. His companions howled at his discomfiture, particularly by a mere slave. Numair also joined in the mirth, although he kept a steely eye on the forward slave.

Finally regaining mental function enough to make coherent speech, the fallen youth challenged his audacious accuser. "You forget your place, _slave_. I will do with what is mine as I see fit. Who are you to tell me otherwise?"

Legolas froze as the snarled words rushed him away to another time and place. Only this time, he wasn't receiving the brunt of those words, he was _saying_ them. "_You forget your place. I am no child for you to order at your whim. I answer to none but my father, and I doubt he will find fault." _He had never considered until now the effect his words must have had on that servant or whether he had gotten into trouble for Legolas's careless behavior. He couldn't even remember the Elf's name! What a fool. What a selfish, arrogant fool he had been! Only time separated him from the pompous brat standing before him now. Shame flooded him, and he dropped his head, unable to bear the sight of what he once was.

The young noble mistook the gesture as a sign of acquiescence and puffed out his chest with the pride of quelling the insubordinate creature. "I trust you won't forget again."

The other nobles laughed at the discomfited slave and moved into the house, but Numair stopped to whisper into the Elf's ear, "Neither will I forget, slave. You and Gehazi will have a discussion about this later, a _long_ discussion."

Legolas couldn't entirely suppress the shudder that coursed through him, much to Numair's delight, and the avenged noble strode away with a smug smile of satisfaction. Legolas tried to regain control over his raging emotions, but the tidal wave of self-reproach, loathing, and regret simply took his breath away. A soft touch on his arm jerked him back to reality, and he looked up to meet Benoni's concerned look with one full of sorrow.

"That was me," whispered Legolas. Benoni's confused look prompted further confessions. "I was a… noble of sorts among my people, but I behaved no better than that wretched boy. I was so blind, I never considered what those around me must have felt." Legolas laughed wryly. "I know now!"

Benoni smiled. "Indeed. You do know now. You are not the same even from the time I first saw you in Saleros's camp." Legolas looked away, ashamed, but Benoni gently turned his face back so their eyes met. "Then you were but a rough seed choking in its own shell, but now you have grown till the green leaves are sprouting through, and a truly great tree it will be when it is grown I think."

Legolas blushed at the compliment, then grinned. "It's the good old farmer touch, I suppose, ey Grandfather?"

Benoni huffed and pushed Legolas away toward the waiting horses. "Just because you silly Elves don't know how to grow a proper beard doesn't give you leave to be making remarks about my age. Grandfather indeed."

#####

Legolas chuckled again at the memory. Benoni always seemed to know what to say and when to laugh! He could always find joy in the darkest moments.

#####

A bitterly cold gust of wind whipped around Legolas as he again buried his shovel in the abnormally deep mound of snow. Legolas shivered and briefly considered begging Naeem for a cloak. Numair would simply have it taken away even if Naeem did grant his request. With a sigh, Legolas continued the seemingly endless job of clearing snow from the courtyard and other manor grounds. Legolas gasped as another icy blast blew right through his thin garments. What was happening? Never had the elements caused him so much discomfort before. True, in Greenwood he had spent most of the winters at a roaring fire in his father's chamber rather than actually out in the bitter cold. But ever inclined to the outdoors, he had always ventured forth to play in the snow, pelting whatever poor Elf happened to come by with expertly aimed snowballs.

The ghost of a smile flitted across his face for a moment as he recalled one particularly epic battle which he, Aldarion, and Cuthelion had waged upon the outer sentries. The three princes had the guards literally scrambling on all fours for cover by the end, after which the three had collapsed in giddy laughter. Legolas and Cuthelion had even composed a ridiculous ditty on the spot that would have done even the Elves of Elrond's house justice. It was one of the only happy times Legolas ever remembered with his brothers. Legolas's last glimpse of his brothers' faces filled with loathing stabbed him like an ice-shard through the heart. Oh, what he wouldn't give to thaw those icy stares that had been so long in the making! To be an Elfling again, to romp in the snow and burry old grievances under an avalanche of laughter. But such a thing was forever beyond his grasp.

A mushy snowball splattered against the side of his head, and Legolas found himself sprawled in a shallow snow bank looking up amazedly at Benoni who was calmly forming another frigid projectile. Benoni quirked one eyebrow at Legolas's aghast face and casually remarked, "It is called a _snowball_. Perhaps Elves have never found use for such things, and indeed it is a dying art even among men. But a few, like myself, are fond of the old ways and try to keep ancient tradition alive." Legolas's mouth worked like he intended to say something, but apparently he still hadn't collected his wits from the initial impact because no sound came forth. So Benoni calmly continued. "I am so glad to see that you heartily approve. Now, arm yourself, boy, or prepare to be driven forth by the prowess of an old man!" With that, Benoni launched his latest creation directly at the Elf's shocked face. Legolas rolled away at the last moment, and as he came up again, a gleam that hadn't been in his eye in many a year sparkled in the early morning sun.

"Prepare _yourself_, Grandfather; for your victim is in truth the champion of Greenwood, Snowballer Extraordinaire!" A wintery barrage already sailed through the air at the unexpected assailant.

For the next few minutes, exuberant pandemonium reigned supreme. Snow flurried around dodging forms. Suddenly the two combatants found themselves being assaulted from the side by an enthusiastic group of the children. An unspoken truce was immediately formed between the original pair, and war waged once more. Shrieks and squeals of laughter lent a splendor to the air, and as the last parting shot or two was traded, Benoni and Legolas found themselves back to back behind the well, breathing hard from exertion and mirth. A twinkling grin on each spoke all that needed to be said.

#####

A sudden gust, laced with an icy chill, grasped at the tattered edges of Legolas's tunic. A slight shudder in the form next to him caused Legolas to check the layered blankets, ensuring they were wrapped tight about their precious charge. The thin face resting fitfully on his shoulder mumbled something unintelligible before sinking back into silence. Legolas put a hand on the wrinkled and spotted brow crowned with wisps of hoary white hair then cast his eyes out upon the horizon just now ever so slightly less dark than its surroundings. "Not much longer, Grandfather. Not much longer."

#####

"_Move!_ You worthless bag of flesh, or I will flay your skin from your bones where you stand. Gee up!"

_Snap! Crack!_ Legolas flinched under the onslaught. His lungs burned for breath; every inch of muscle, sinew, and bone strained against the harness, and the skin was slowly being torn from his bare feet as they grated against the harsh stone, searching desperately for a hold. Despite it all, the fully laden wagon remained firmly in place.

Despair washed through Legolas as he felt his strength ebb, but he could do no more. He could hear the derisive jeers of Numair's opponents, confident now in their lucrative victory. Numair was frantic, and his lash bit again and again into Legolas's taut flesh. Suddenly, Numair changed tactics.

"I will take it out of the both of you! That fool old slave. I'll beat him and sell him to the mines; you hear me? To the mines!"

Fear coursed through Legolas. Numair would do it. Bedridden for most of the last year, Naeem had handed most of the responsibility for the household over to Numair, and Numair wouldn't think twice about exacting this most horrible revenge. The mines were worse than death, and death soon came to all who passed within their maw, never to taste of the free air again.

With a wordless cry to Iluvatar for strength, Legolas hurled himself bodily against the restraints. The wagon creaked. The crowd stilled. Again, the Elf threw himself against the mammoth weight, his agonized groan blending with that of the overloaded wagon. Again. And Again. Time stood still. Sound ceased. His vision grew dark. All the world was force against insurmountable force. Then, it gave. He strained. It gave again. Momentum eased forward, and inch by agonizing inch, Legolas hauled the wagon a full three feet. As his raw, bleeding foot crossed the line scrawled across the stone, Legolas heaved forward and collapsed with a shuddering gasp.

Disjointed images and sounds scrabbled across his consciousness, but he could only focus on the burning need for oxygen. His muscles seemed to have forgotten how to breath; he was suffocating, strangling in the harness! He needed to break free, but not a single muscle would obey his command. The splotchy darkness engulfed him.

The tepid splash of water on his face jerked him back from the brink, and he became aware of the bony hand supporting his head while another brought a small cup of water to his lips. He gulped down the liquid, and the refreshment seemed to ease his body back into the correct rhythms as his breathing lost its jagged edge.

Benoni stared down at the trembling Elf with a mixture of awe and concern but tried to lighten the moment.

"I hadn't realized that draft horse was one of your innumerable qualifications."

"You never asked," rasped Legolas with a shaky grin.

Benoni gently squeezed Legolas's shoulder. "Thank you."

Legolas only nodded in reply. Movement caught his eye, and Numair appeared with a smug look and a rather large bag winnings.

"Took your own sweet time, but at least I found a way to get your worthless hide moving," Numair ran his hands through the coins in his bag, "well, perhaps, not _quite_ so worthless hide."

Numair's coarse laughter grated on Legolas's frayed nerves, but he swallowed his anger and only replied, "As you say, Master."

One of the men who had lost the bet stalked by glowering. He sneered at Numair. "Nice dog you've got there. What will you do when he loses his favorite bone? I bet doggie won't stay around for a rematch then. Maybe he'll slit master's throat in his sleep. Wouldn't _that_ be a shame."

"My pets know who is master, Jasik. They would not dare to cross me. Your heavy loss has addled your wits."

"I think your lucky wins have blinded yours," snapped Jasik. A malicious light sparked in his eyes. "Lets prove your claim then. That wheezing corpse looks ready to drop any minute, but he might last a month or two at my mill. I'll give you double what he's worth."

The offer caught Numair off guard, and an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. What _would_ the Elf do once the old slave was gone? Yet Thuan had been tamed long ago. Surely Numair could control him. Surely. Besides, to refuse a challenge would do serious harm to his reputation.

Hiding his misgivings with a contemptuous smile, Numair replied, "Surely I have taken enough of your money for one day, but if you insist on throwing good money away, I'll take it off your hands. I'd say this wizened specimen is worth at least…."

"Master, no!" Legolas's agonized cry brought conversation to a halt. Legolas struggled to his knees, ignoring Benoni's warning clasp on his arm. "Do not do this, please! Benoni has served your household faithfully for over twenty years. You cannot just cast him aside!"

Numair's lash caught Legolas on the cheek, drawing blood and sending him reeling.

"I will do with what is mine as I please, slave. Do not _dare_ to tell me what I can and cannot do with what is mine."

Benoni tried to prevent Legolas from rising again, but Legolas gently pushed Benoni's hands to the side and rose to meet Numair's steely gaze.

"You say you do this to prove your hold over me. What if I ensure that hold will never wain?"

Benoni grabbed his arm, whispering fiercely, "Do not do this! I am old. I do not have much life left to live. Do not throw your immortal life away for what paltry years I might have left. Let me go!"

Legolas's firm gaze was filled with passion, "Not till Iluvatar takes you." Putting Benoni's hands aside, he knelt before Numair.

"In exchange for this man's life, I will swear to serve you and your descendants or any other rightful master faithfully without rebellion or escape."

Numair's smirk as he contemplated the kneeling figure before him concealed a torrent of emotions at war within him. Bargaining with a slave, unthinkable! Yet, Thuan was no ordinary slave, and if Numair was honest with himself, he had to admit that while he fancied himself in control of this Elf, Numair was secretly terrified of him. Assuring the Elf's loyalty was truly a valuable opportunity, perhaps even worth whatever losses might come from refusing Jasik's challenge.

"An interesting proposition, O Long-lived One. You bargain with what is mine by all rights already, yet I am in a jovial mood today. Perhaps I shall throw my dog a bone since it asks so nicely. Done. I accept your bargain, and may whatever god you believe in hold you to your oath."

Legolas felt a momentary burning in his right shoulder - his branded shoulder. Then it was gone. A heavy weight settled on his heart, but as he met the watery eyes of the old man who had shown him what living really meant, he did not regret his decision.

#####

Nor had Legolas ever regretted his decision the last two years. Even when Naeem's death left Numair as a tyrannical master of the house with Legolas as his favorite object of torment, Legolas still found comfort in the fact that his oath kept Benoni out of harm's way. Numair had gone so far as allowing Legolas access to whatever herbs and medicines he desired these last few months as the Elf had nursed Benoni's worsening cough and weakening body. But the days of the Second Born are numbered, and not even the skill of an Eldar can alter the course of Iluvatar's song.

Legolas flung his head back against the coarse rock of the outer wall, choking back a sob of grief. He could hear the soft strain of Benoni's life winding to a close. He had known from the moment he had entered Benoni's room earlier that evening, just as twilight had begun to settle, that tonight would be Benoni's last.

#####

With shaking hands, Legolas put the tray of broth and steaming tea on the side table before they could drop from his suddenly numb fingers. He had known this moment would come, even that it would come soon, but, oh, how soon!

Legolas glanced back at Benoni's gaunt frame that barely made a bump under the thin bed cover. Only a few wisps of white hair still clung to the aged head, and yellowed skin, spotted and wrinkled, sagged on the beloved face. Yet the feverish, bright eyes, rimmed with purple shadow, still held a tender kindness as they blinked open, and a smile tugged at the corners of the thin lips.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, boy. I didn't go and die already without my realizing it, did I?"

A weak smile fluttered at the corner of Legolas's mouth as he moved to sit by the bed. "You? Let a little something like that slip by you? Surely not!" Legolas gently felt the thin wrist for a pulse that took even him a moment to find. "Your reputation is safe. Still alive and kicking."

"But the time draws near."

Legolas could not bring himself to meet Benoni's eyes as tears finally sprang from his own.

"I know my time has come, my friend. I feel it. I _welcome_ it."

Legolas turned to the withered face with confusion.

"Perhaps, as an Eldar, you cannot fathom such a thing, but the weight of years lies heavy upon me. Many I love have already wandered to the lands beyond. Indeed, I welcome Iluvatar's gift gladly." A shadow passed over his face. "For you only do I mourn. You traded your immortal years to buy just a few more for a greying old man. It was too high a price. Too high!"

Grasping the thin, cold hand in both his own, Legolas willed the truth of his words to break through to the sorrowing heart. "The only reason I had any life to give at all is because of you. Every one of the years I have spent at your side have enriched my life a thousand fold. No, it was not too high a price. Indeed, it was I who gained the profit! You have been a teacher, friend, and … father to me. If I have loved to much or too sacrificially, it is only because you taught me to do so. The son only does what he sees his father doing."

Benoni drew the golden head down and kissed his brow. "You are truly a son to be proud of."

A twinge caught at Legolas's heart - an accusing echo and a reproaching look. Benoni lifted Legolas's chin until their eyes met again. This time it was the human's turn to convey a truth that somehow he knew from the depths of his being.

"Whatever your past may hold, it does not hold you now. The young shoot has grown into a fine stalwart sapling, straight and true. I fear terrible times are ahead of you, yet I do not think they will break nor twist you but rather temper you into a sturdy oak, fit for whatever storms may come. And someday, I believe you will find your way home to the family you left behind and discover open arms instead of the condemnation you fear. What father's heart could fail to rejoice over a lost son come home?"

Legolas could only manage a half nod, his throat blocked with emotion. He could not bring himself to entirely accept the dying man's words, yet a tiny seed of hope planted itself deep inside him and nestled itself away.

The force of emotion had drained Benoni considerably, and he closed his eyes with a weary sigh. Legolas brought him some tea, now cool, and tried to feed him some of the broth, but no appetite remained in the shriveled body. At last, Benoni cast his eyes around the meager room until his gaze settled on the small window.

"Oh to see the sun rise again! It's then I can most nearly hear the song. What I wouldn't give to hear even just a few notes of which you speak so movingly!"

"A sunrise it is! Come, Grandfather, your chariot awaits!" With that, Legolas scooped the frail form, blankets and all, up in his arms and headed for the door.

Only one guard spied the pair on their way out the side door, and one look at the Elf's fierce face made him not only scurry out of their way, but actually open the door for them.

With swift strides, Legolas carried the dying man to a spot along the outer wall that looked away over the prairie grass to the sky's eastern edge. With a start, Legolas realized this was probably about the same spot he and Benoni had stood so many years ago when Legolas would not flee for the despair that crushed him. Now, Legolas would not flee for the love that upheld him.

Legolas gently eased Benoni down, wrapping him tightly in the blanket to protect him from the predawn chill. The Elf sat by his friend, offering his shoulder as a pillow while the two waited - waited for the sunrise… and death.

#####

Dawn was upon them. A golden glimmer touched the earth's edge, and a fire of colors broke out upon the prairie. At once a chorus of birds sang for joy at the radiant beginning of another day. The pale grass danced; the tiny flowers curtsied and twirled. A tawny field mouse sat up and chittered a greeting to the rising sun. The world came alive with sight and sound and song.

Benoni sat straight up, grasping Legolas's arm with a strength he had not had in months. His eyes were wide with wonderment, his lips slightly parted in awe.

"I hear it, Legolas. I _hear_ it! Oh!" Tears of joy slipped from the fading eyes. Benoni leaned back against the Elf's chest, and closing his eyes with a contented sigh, he was gone.


	14. A Small Smile

A Small Smile

Brown, decaying leaves rustled and skittered as a gust passed carrying with it the bite of winter's coming chill. Shadows covered the mounds of mouldering vegetation but did not lessen their pungent aroma kicked up by each of Legolas's steps. He pushed a bare branch gently to the side and looked up to track the sun's crimson descent. Already the creeping night had enfolded half the sky while the sinking sun painted the remaining half vivid streaks of scarlet and tangerine. Crickets began their evening roar as a few birds called last strains of goodbye to the dying day.

With a last few strides, Legolas emerged from the foliage into the small clearing where a sapling marked Benoni's grave. Briefly the setting sun bathed the whole scene in a warm glow before beginning to sink below the horizon. Silently, Legolas sat near the sapling and turned his eyes to the setting sun till the last vestiges had disappeared. The first light of the evening stars glinted off two small tears that slowly rolled down Legolas's cheek.

"How I wish you were here, my Friend!"

The ache stuck in his throat, and he could say no more for a moment as sorrow and loneliness undulled by the last three years rushed over him afresh. But Legolas wrestled it back. Drowning in despair would be a disservice to the one for whom he mourned. Benoni had taught him better than that. His eyes sought out the vibrant star already on its journey across the night sky. Gil-Estel - Star of Hope. A small smile flickered across Legolas's face as he remembered Benoni's rapt attention to his retelling of the star's origin. It was one of the few time when the Elf had been the teacher.

A distant clanging brought Legolas from his reverie. It was time for him to return and help prepare for Numair's evening guests. Having squandered and gambled away the vast majority of his inheritance, Numair had already sold off most of the other slaves. The few servants left to keep up the deteriorating estate worked incessantly to stem the decline, but all knew it was only a matter of time before they too would leave for a new master - some to a better situation, some to worse.

As Legolas stood, a sense of foreboding washed through him, and he suddenly felt that he would not be coming back to Benoni's grove again. He paused and looked back on the serenity of the emerging tree glinting palely in the moonlight. No matter what may lie ahead, he would never forget the man nor his wisdom. Legolas caught the soft strain of earth and sky- neither would he forget the song that wove them together.

The tantalizing smell of roasting beef and vegetables washed over Legolas making his empty stomach rumble loudly as he carried his load of firewood into the bustling kitchen. Eza looked up with a frown from where she was arranging a platter of cheese and bread.

"Yer late. Get washed and dressed quick and get this out to the table 'for the riffraff gets here."

"Yes, m'lady," grinned Legolas with a deep bow and headed back to the door.

" 'ere. Y'aint had nothin' t'day and ye'll need to keep that monster o' yours quiet so it don't displease his lordship."

Eza handed him a small bowl of beef stew with a chunk of bread that was still warm. Legolas glanced at her in shock, glancing around to see if anyone else noticed, although he doubted any of the other slaves would turn them in.

"Eza, I…"

"Stop yappin' and get movin'!"

The wiry woman's shove out the door was gentle despite her gruff tone, and Legolas decided not to waste her gift. The first bite stopped him cold in his tracks as the savory warmth filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. It had been weeks since his last hot meal, and that had been a thin soup made from leftovers. This was fresh- full of beef (something he hadn't had in years) and assorted vegetables that were spiced for a nobleman's palate. Legolas had never tasted anything so good. All too soon it was gone, but it was just as well since his shrunken stomach could not have held much more than the small bowl. Already Legolas could feel the effects of a decent meal - aches eased, weariness lessened, and his spirits lifted.

He felt practically giddy by the time he had washed, dressed in his attendant clothes, and arrived back at the kitchen. He slipped the empty bowl into a sudsy tub before sneaking up behind Eza, twirling her around, and kissing the top of her gray head. The astonished woman could only gape at the grinning Elf as he deftly lifted the prepared platter out of her stunned hands and departed for the dining hall with a cheeky bow.

Legolas had to pause and take a breath to school his features into the appropriate emotionless, subservient demeanor before swinging open the heavy oak door. The hall, once covered in gaudy tapestries only had two left next to the banquet table that was only half as large as the one Naeem had regularly employed. Candelabras only lighted that side of the room in an effort to minimize the reminders that all is not as grand as it once was. Unfortunately, the dim lighting only served to lend a brooding air to the diminished hall.

Legolas rushed to complete the preparations for Numair and his guests, and had barely made the final adjustment and taken his place just behind and to the side of Numair's chair at the end of the table when another servant announced the nobleman's arrival. The mealtime kept him busy keeping plates and wine glasses full. Although never allowed to look directly at any of the party present, Legolas kept a keen watch from the corner of his eye on all that transpired. He was dismayed to find Jasik among the guests. Time had not changed the fact that Jasik brought trouble. If anything, he had only gotten worse. Legolas noticed that even Numair seemed wary of the merchant.

When the meal was winding down, Numair snapped at the Elf and waved him to the end of the table - his usual way of letting Legolas know it was time for the entertainment. Legolas had ready a variety of songs, dances, and stories that the noblemen might find entertaining, and he made his was to the designated spot, passing his platter of dirty plates to another slave.

"Are you really going to bore us to death with the wretched noise that thing calls music _again_?"

Numair's eyes flashed in rage as he turned to Jasik, but his voice remained level as he addressed his insolent guest.

"Perhaps you have another thought on the evening's entertainment?"

"I do indeed - an old favorite," and Jasik pulled several intricately painted dice from his tunic.

A shout of approval went up from the rest of the men, yet Legolas's mouth went dry. He risked a quick glance at Numair's face and saw both unease and yearning. Numair had sworn off gambling multiple times and had even managed to stay away from it for a few months, but Jasik had him cornered. To refuse now would make Numair appear weak and would insult his guests. Besides, Legolas knew the noble would convince himself it was an opportunity to gain back some of what he had lost. Unfortunately, it never worked that way.

In an hour, Numair had lost fifty gold pieces - all the money he had on hand. Legolas felt sick as he watched and served. Another slave would have to be sold to make up the loss; another friend would be lost due to reckless greed. Legolas was only glad that Numair did not have any more to lose.

The noble was a sad sight - thoroughly drunk at this point and in utter despair, he took no notice of clothes that had become askew or hair that had become disheveled. A few others looked to be in a similar state, although none had lost as heavily as Numair. Jasik alone seemed to be enjoying himself, and the giant pile of coins in front of him attested to the reason why. He smirked as Numair stood to excuse himself.

"What! Leaving already? Why, we're only just getting started."

Numair just glared at him and turned away, but Jasik's next comment stopped him mid-stride.

"How would you like a chance to win all of this back?"

"I have _nothing_ left. Do you not understand? Nothing to put against your cursed wager, so take it an get out!"

"The Elf."

Legolas's heart stopped and his skin went cold. Numair just stared at Jasik blankly.

"Put your Elf slave up against the winnings. You could have it all back and more."

Numair's bleary eyes still seemed uneasy, but he took a step back towards the table.

"One toss?"

"One toss. Your slave against the evenings winnings."

"Perhaps if it were one of the others…"

"He's the only one even remotely worth this much. It's still a little short, in my opinion, but I'm willing to risk it for a last thrill."

Numair glanced at Legolas uncertainly before snatching the dice from Jasik's extended hand.

Legolas wanted to cry out, show Numair what a mistake this was, but it wasn't his place. He was a slave; he had no voice. The cries died in his throat.

An expectant silence filled the room. The rattle of the dice sounded unnaturally loud as they rolled inside the cup.

Numair could be a cruel master at times, and often Legolas went without food or rest in his harsh service, but at least he knew how things worked here. He had friends, allies against the hardships and sorrows of a slave's life. This had been his whole world for thirty years. The thought of leaving terrified him.

With a last shake, Numair released the dice, and they flew bouncing down the table. Every eye was glued to the tiny objects. Part of Legolas's mind registered that word must have spread about what was happening because even those slaves who were not serving were visible peering in from doors and hallways.

The last dice rolled to a stop. Deathly silence. Jasik's chair grated loudly on the stone floor. His footsteps echoed in the dim room, stopping in front of the Elf. Suddenly, Jasik backhanded Legolas square across the face.

"Gather my things, slave. I believe I've had enough fun for one evening."

Numbly, Legolas did as his new master bid him, scooping the coins into a rough bag another slave had brought out earlier. Jasik sauntered over, pulled out two coins, and tossed them before the ashen faced Numair.

"That's for its clothes." Jasik glanced around at the silent room. No one else had moved. His malicious grin sent shivers down Legolas's spine. "Thank you for a most enjoyable evening. I should love to stay, but I've just got a new slave, and I must attend to it. Come!"

There was nothing else to be done but to obey. Legolas slowly followed Jasik from the hall out into the night. But just before he left the great hall, never to return, he took one glance back. On the opposite side of the sombre room, a wiry figure with tears running down her cheeks gazed at the departing Elf. Catching Legolas's gaze, she curtseyed deeply. Legolas bowed back, and the two shared a small smile across the darkness.

It was the last time he would ever see anyone from that room.


	15. Escape

_AN- One hundred (and one) reviews! Thank you so much for reviewing. It brightens my day and keeps me going when the writing gets tough. ^_^ I have a few additional comments that I will post at the end of the chapter. Now, on to the story._

* * *

**Escape**

Legolas's feet pounded in the darkness, but he was sure the pounding of his heart was louder still. He clutched the chains he had wrenched from the mill shaft, desperately trying to muffle their harsh jangle. Was that a shout in the distance? Had they discovered he was missing already? No time to find out. Flee! Flee to freedom!

Through the shadowy streets, Legolas fled. Silent as a summer breeze, fleet as a Wood Elf. He would be free. Nothing held him back. Benoni was gone. Numair was gone. Jasik had no sway over him. Why shouldn't he fly away through the darkness? Had he not longed for this moment? Hadn't he?

At the city's edge, he paused, straining for the sounds of pursuit. Only the rusty hinge of a sign swaying in the wind broke the silence. The prairie grasses stretched out into the distance - the lesser dark of a moonless night. It was time. Time to leave it all behind him; time to slip free of the darkness that held him; time to find what he had lost.

The silence was deafening. The darkness was stifling. He couldn't. One foot edged back into the shadows. He had to try. With a leap like a cat from its predator, Legolas sprang into motion before the doubts could choke him back. Bare feet whisked through the long grass carrying him away, carrying him… home?

He had to try. Benoni wanted him to try. He had to try. So what if Saleros had tormented him with the royal decree every day from the time it had arrived? Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they would take him back anyway. Maybe. He had to try.

Surely it couldn't be as bad as Saleros said. It couldn't be as bad as the mill. No light, no windows, no contact with the outside world but the occasional pan of mush and tin of water slid under the door. That is, unless Jasik's gambling hadn't gone the way he wanted and he needed to vent his anger. Even then Legolas didn't get to leave the suffocating cellar. It didn't matter that Legolas couldn't bear to lie down after Jasik finished; the chain connecting his collar and manacles to the shaft prevented that anyway. Of course, pushing the heavy wooden beam around… and around… and around… and around became harder when every step sent waves of fire through his bruised body. But what was that to a slave? That was just their lot in life. So he ran to Greenwood.

Was that a clang of warning in the distance? Had they spotted him already? What would they say? What would he say?

The trees were giant shadows around him. He could hear their whispers. Legolas suddenly felt naked, all of his secret shames exposed. His brothers had seen him for who he truly was. Now his father knew as well.

He felt eyes burning into his back, tracing the brand that so garishly reminded him that he no longer deserved to walk among the free peoples. He couldn't breathe, but he had to know. He had to see for himself. Slowly he turned to face the one he most wanted to see again, and the one he most dreaded.

Thranduil stood at the edge of the clearing. Crimson berries shimmered like serpent eyes from the crown upon his head. Blue eyes frigid with disappointment and disdain bored into Legolas's soul.

Legolas fell on his face before him. "Father, please!"

"You will not address me in such a manner!"

Sobs choked him; tears blurred his vision. "No… please… have mercy!"

"What do you know of mercy? Were you not the one that punished servants unjustly to cover your own misdeeds? Were you not the one who ensured I never found time for any of my children but you? Were you not the one that insisted your brother's mistakes, though few, discredited him from being worthy of the crown? You disdained your people, betrayed your brothers, and used me!"

Thranduil stepped out towards Legolas, and he could not help but wincing back before the force of the Elven king's hurt and anger. He had no voice, no plea, no excuse.

"You are dead to me and all who ally with me."

"NO!" Legolas scrambled to clutch at his father's feet, to hold on for a little more time, for one last time. The kick slammed him against what must have been a tree. Legolas could no longer see for the tears streaming down his face. All was blackness, without and within.

"Get out of my sight, slave. You have no place here."

"Father!"

A slap in the face cut him off.

"Call me that again, and I will tan your worthless hide! Crazy Elf."

Another slap sent Legolas crashing into the rough wood of the shaft, and the forest faded into the dank mill cellar. A shadow loomed over him, and for a moment, Legolas thought he saw the glint of holly berries about a golden brow. Then Jasik held up his torch revealing greasy hair beaded with sweat.

Legolas's eyes weren't used to the light and he had to look away quickly, blinking rapidly. Of course, the tears still streaming down his face didn't help his vision either.

"Didn't you hear the bell?" Jasik reached up and tugged on the bell string that let Legolas know when to start and stop pushing the shaft. It clanged shrilly.

"I would think that after three years, even a stupid creature like you would figure it out. My _mule_ paid better attention!"

Legolas was regaining some composure by now as the waking nightmare slipped back into the darkness that spawned it.

"Forgive me, Master. My mind was elsewhere."

"Elsewhere. Perhaps my slave is not grateful for all the comforts I have showered on him."

Legolas just stood, head bowed. Jasik had come to torment him, and anything Legolas said would only make it worse. Jasik slashed Legolas across the chest with the thin willow branch he clutched in one hand.

"Perhaps you think you are the only one who wishes things were different?" Another lash. "Immortal wisdom gives such clarity to things." Slash. "Lowly humans are the flies buzzing through your otherwise perfect existence. If a human fails, what does it matter? If a human dies, what do you care! I'm just a nagging insect before your _greatness_."

The blows were raining steadily now, and Legolas did his best to protect his head from the onslaught but to no avail. The smell of alcohol and stale sweat permeated Jasik. A mad gleam lent a wild air to his eyes. Legolas had never seen the human quite so worked up before. He was literally raving and laughing wildly as he beat his helpless victim long into the night.

Legolas huddled next to the axle, trying to keep from passing out for fear he would hang himself with his collar. Jasik was finally wearing down, and weeping had begun to replace his curses. Finally, the whip snapped across Legolas's shoulders, and Jasik stumbled backwards into the wall, looking blankly at the stub left in his hand.

"Just a broken stick waiting for the fire."

Jasik slumped down against the wall and wept. Legolas stared at the man, wide-eyed. By this time, he was sure Jasik had completely lost his mind.

"I hate you… I hate you…"

Jasik's fist thumped hollowly against the wall.

"Worthless… stupid…" Glassy eyes rolled in a blank stare around the room. "No way out… no way out…"

Ragged breathing was the only sound for a long time. The torch flickered and sputtered in a losing battle with the darkness. Deep shadows wreathed the wretched form huddled by the door.

"I grieve for you."

The whisper surprised Legolas almost as much as it did Jasik.

"What?"

"I… you are troubled, and I… am sad for you."

Jasik just stared at the Elf for a long time.

"Why would you be sad for me? This is some trick, some wily way of Elves to bend my mind to your will." Jasik bolted up, grasping at the dagger by his side.

"No! Wait, Master. There is no trick!" Legolas backed up, hands aloft in surrender.

Jasik eyed the Elf warily, but did not pull the dagger from its sheath.

"I… I only meant that I too have known the weight of despairing sorrow, and I… do not wish that upon any. I hope you find your way."

Jasik stared at the Elf - chained to his mill and bloodied by his hand - who alone of all he knew had offered him the compassion he knew he did not deserve. For a moment, hope sparked within him. Then it was gone. There was no hope for him. What was done could not be undone.

"Strangely, I believe you when you say that. Perhaps you bewitched me already. I don't know. In any case, it does not matter. The compassion of a slave, even an Elven one, cannot free me from what lies ahead. There is but one path of escape for me."

Jasik turned away into the darkness. His final glance back at the bewildered Elf was one of grim remorse.

"Strange that a slave is the only one who will grieve for me."

The next day, when the creditors came to collect Legolas, no one had bothered to cut down Jasik's body.

* * *

_AN- To all of those aching to know what's happening back in Mirkwood, I'm afraid you will have to wait and wonder just like our beloved Elf. That day of revelation will come eventually, I promise. __To those aching for Legolas's freedom, please be aware that we are just barely past the first section of the story. Legolas's song of sojourn is not yet finished. ^_^_

_~ Mia_


	16. Baruti

**Baruti**

Brown braids fluttered in the breeze, while brown eyes gazed in wonder at the sunlight-dappled leaves whipping past. Suddenly, there was nothing but blue sky and bushy green grass rushing to meet them.

The squeal of delight, directly in Legolas's ear, brought a wince to his face that had nothing to do with the perfect landing in the clearing. Still, the previous grin returned just as big as ever at the child's cry for more.

"Oh, please, Baruti! Again, again!"

With a laugh, Legolas swung the pleading child to the ground. She hopped about him with all the energy and enthusiasm her six year old body contained, tugging on his tunic as if to forcibly hoist him into the trees once more.

"Ai! Leila, I think should I take you up six additional times you would still clamor for more."

Legolas laughed again as he deftly captured the chubby hand and guided its owner back to the blanket and pack waiting across the field.

"Besides, we must get to your lessons or your mother will be highly displeased with me."

Leila's heavy sigh was her only answer, but with the resilience of youth, her spirits bubbled over again as they sat on the blanket.

"Teach me some more of those pretty words! I liked those a lot."

Legolas grinned. "I like them too, but unfortunately they are not as useful here as Westron, so we must begin with that."

Crestfallen, Leila pouted at the slate Legolas set before her. Legolas patted her shoulder consolingly.

"Do not fret, Little-one. Perhaps if you study your lessons well, we might have time at the end for a few more Sindarin words."

With a squeak of excitement, the young girl turned suddenly rapt attention to the slate's contents and began fiercely whispering the letters to herself. Confident in the diligence of one of his charges for the moment at least, Legolas cast about for the other two. He spotted ten year old Diyan reclining under the shade of a nearby oak pouring over the contents of the parchment Legolas had given him earlier. Thirteen year old Mina, on the other-hand, was nowhere to be seen.

"I see you are studying hard, Leila. We will check how far you have learned when I return."

Leila did not even glance up as Legolas slipped away into the forest. In a moment, he had caught the older girl's trail, and a few minutes' jog brought him to the spring in which Mina was studying her reflection. Legolas purposely snapped a twig underfoot as he approached, and Mina whirled about with a guilty look that quickly hid behind a haughty sneer.

"How dare you sneak up on me, Baruti, when you know I hate it so! I ought to have you whipped for it since you obviously did not learn your lesson last time."

Legolas dipped his head to her.

"I beg pardon, Mistress, but I am afraid I shall receive worse from your mother if you do not receive sufficient instruction in the arts of herb gathering and usage. Have you found everything on the list I gave you this morning?"

Mina tossed her wavy brown hair over her should and crossed her arms. With a disdainful sniff, she kicked the wicker basket at her feet towards the Elf, scattering the scraggly contents about the forest floor.

"I don't see why I have to gather the herbs anyway. That's what slaves are for."

Suppressing a sigh of frustration, Legolas knelt and gently gathered the limp herbs back into the basket.

"Perhaps you _will_ always have slaves to do this for you. Perhaps they _will_ be knowledgeable about such things. Perhaps they _will_ be trustworthy and diligent. Perhaps. But, as we have discussed many times, the right herb will heal you while the wrong one will kill you. Knowing the difference could save your life or that of your family. It would be… unwise to heedlessly assume that you will always have around someone who _does_ know the difference when you need them."

"That is what _you_ are for, slave. Fetch my things along. I am going back to the house. Father is to return tonight with guests, and I wish to prepare myself to look my best. _That_ is _my_ role."

With a swish of her skirts, Mina stalked away. Legolas watched her attempt at a regal strut for a few moments before whirling around and pounding his fist against a nearby trunk. A few deep breaths helped him regain his clam, and with a shake of the head to clear the last shreds of his anger, he headed back to the clearing. He whispered his often repeated gratitude that his other two charges were not like their older sister.

Most of the lights in the various houses had already been extinguished as Legolas hurried to finish his extra duties resulting from Mina's defunct lesson. He still wanted to read over the history lesson for Diyan again. He was more familiar with the Elven histories than that of Gondor and even less so with the other human realms, and he wanted to be sure he refreshed his memory since his eager pupil was sure to overrun him with questions. At least Dion cared enough about his son's education to purchase a number of scrolls in the various subjects as well as keeping a slave almost entirely devoted to that end.

Legolas sat back on his heels, flexing aching back muscles, and surveyed the dining hall. The damp floor glinted faintly in the lamplight. Damp, mildly bruised knees creaked as the Elf rose and gathered his wash-bucket and rag. Then silence reigned once more as Legolas blew out the lamp and carried his bucket outdoors to the garden.

After leaving the overturned bucket to dry by the tool-shed, Legolas slipped back toward the house. His small room that he shared with another house slave was situated so that he could be called to attend the family at the faintest cry. It was a faint crying that stopped him just as his hand reached for the latch. For a moment he thought Leila might have awakened with a nightmare and was afraid because she could not find him, but the tone was all wrong. It was more like the sound of a breaking heart than of a frightened child.

Silently, Legolas slipped through the shadows to the stables. A slim figure was huddled against the water trough sobbing. It took a moment for Legolas to recognize the dejected figure as Mina.

"My lady, what is wrong? Are you hurt?"

Mina jerked about at his concerned murmur, dashing tears from swollen eyes.

"What are you… No, I… I'm… fine."

"Your eyes say otherwise, my lady," commented Legolas tenderly, handing her the handkerchief she had dropped in her alarm.

Mina turned away and stared into the mirroring waters of the trough.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm not, am I. Leila is. Father always brags about her to his friends and shows her off; he doesn't even mention me. Ever."

Mina wrestled to hold back the sobs that threatened to choke her words.

"If I were a boy, he would be proud of how smart I am. He would want to hear the ballad that I learned for him or see how fast I can do sums or want _me_ to sit by him or…"

The sobs finally overcame her, and she curled up with the force of the suppressed cries. In response to the Elf's comforting touch on her shoulder, Mina melted into his embrace, weeping against his chest. The shocked Elf stared down at her awkwardly for a moment before gently wrapping his arms protectively about her. After awhile, he began to hum softly staring at the starry sky.

_How__many__tears__did__my__brothers__cry__to__the__distant__stars?_A hollow ache constricted his throat, and he had to blink rapidly to clear his watering eyes. Legolas quickly turned his attention back to the forlorn little girl drying her tears against his tunic.

Stepping back, Legolas brushed stray strands of tear drenched hair out of Mina's eyes and smiled down at her.

"The heart aches when eyes that _should_ see do not, yet that does not mean there is nothing there to see. The hidden rose is beautiful, though none should see it. Yet, if the rose were to give up and die because no one admired it, a little beauty would go out of the world and be lost."

Gently guiding Mina toward the house, Legolas paused by a rose bush blooming near the back door. The blossoms, painted violet in the dim starlight, nodded gracefully in the light breeze. Legolas plucked one and presented it to Mina.

"Who knows? Perhaps in time some lonesome heart might come by and be gladdened by the sight of the flower that until then had remained unseen. Yet even if that should never happen, the rose has made a difference in its little world that nothing else could."

Mina stared pensively at the delicate blossom in her hands, twirling it slowly.

"I don't 'brighten my world' very often, do I."

With a kind smile, Legolas took the rose and placed it in her hair.

"The seeds are there, my lady. They _are_ there."

Mina smiled shyly at the Elf, who bowed and offered her his arm. Legolas escorted her back inside, opening the door with a flourish that made Mina stifle a giggle. Then all was still, except for the roses by the door that whispered and danced beneath the moon till the stars faded into day.

"Come _on_, Baruti! Come on!"

Leila pulled on Legolas's hand, her single braid whisking about her as she hopped down the forest path.

"Momma says you can play with me all day! Diyan says that I don't need to play all the time since I'm nine now, but I think that's silly. Brothers are so silly. Father came back last night, and I saw him with a big package. I just _know_ he brought me the doll I saw at the market when I went to see his shop. It had real hair! And such a pretty dress and even little shoes! Oh! I can't wait till tonight! Birthdays are _so_ wonderful. Do _you_ have birthdays? You don't ever look any older."

Before Legolas could come up with an answer for that, Leila spotted the clearing she was looking for. With a shout, she dashed through the trees and spun around with her arms outstretched.

"Isn't it _lovely!_ I found it when I was helping Mina look for her herbs. Look! The mushrooms look just like little fairy tables, and here! These acorns are the cups, and these rocks are the plates. I can't wait till I have my doll to play tea party with, but I guess we can just pretend for now. Here, I will be the lady welcoming you to my feast."

Leila pulled Legolas to his spot, then rushed to place herself in the middle of the clearing. The sun danced about her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes as she curtseyed.

"Welcome, good sir, do please come in and be seated. Dinner will be served shortly."

Legolas bowed regally, with a far merrier light in his eyes than any he had ever had at the real feasts he had attended.

"I am delighted and honored to be invited to your lovely home. I hear you plan the most elegant parties."

Leila giggled and led her guest to a stump that seemed made to be a party table. Legolas seated himself and waited as his enthusiastic young hostess procured rock platters heaped with imaginary delicacies. Empty acorns proved the most delightful goblets, just perfect for toasting.

After the sumptuous feast came the dance. Legolas pulled his flute from his pack, and the capricious melody lightened their feet. Leila clapped and sang, making up the words as she went. Joy burst forth and filled the forest with song.

The day danced by with tree climbing, bird watching, squirrel chasing, flower picking, wreath making, and story telling. With a golden crown of dandelions upon her brow, Leila skipped back to the house through the lengthening shadows at Legolas's side. As the two parted ways on the doorstep to prepare for the evening meal, Leila dashed back to give Legolas a fierce hug.

"I love you, Baruti," whispered Leila. Then she whisked into the house.

That night, as Legolas checked on each of the children before bed, he saved Leila's for last. With a gentle tap on the door-frame, he announced his presence. The tearstained face that rolled over to greet him was a far cry from the dancing eyes from a few hours earlier.

"Leila! What is the matter?"

Legolas sat on the edge of her bed, and Leila promptly curled up against him, burying her face against his chest. Legolas held her for a few moments as her sniffling slowed. At last, Leila leaned back in his arms so she could see his face.

"I got a stupid dress. It's stiff and scratchy."

"I see. Pretty disappointed, huh."

Leila nodded and curled up closer to him.

"Father never listens to me! I don't think he even cares about me at all."

"Hold on there, Little-one. Even the best fathers make mistakes. I think he loves you very much. He may just not know how to show it."

Leila stared up at him skeptically. Legolas lifted her up and set her on her feet.

"I think I know just the person to help him."

"Who?"

"You."

"Me? How?"

"The best way to teach someone to love is to love them first. It's a big job, but I think I know one young lady who is quite qualified for the task."

Leila blushed and stared at the floor for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, she met the encouraging gaze of the one who had raised her with love from the day she was born and gave a brief nod. Legolas beamed back at her with pride.

"That's my girl."

Leila hopped back in his lap and nestled into his hug.

"Now, I think this birthday girl needs to get some sleep. Birthday girl... hmmm… that reminds me of something…."

"What? What?"

"Oh, I remember. I have a little doll that wants very much to belong to a young lady just turning nine years old. Do you know anyone by that description?"

Legolas pulled the handmade doll from his tunic and presented it to Leila who stared at it with a wordless "oh." She cradled the small form, caressing the silky hair made from dried plant fibers and exclaiming over the dainty dress made from scrap pieces of fabric. She grinned up at him with sheer delight.

"Thank you!"

"You are welcome, Little-one. Happy birthday."

Leila was still staring dreamily at the doll's smiling face as Legolas tucked her in and slipped away.

* * *

_AN- The Bible describes children as a gift from the Lord, and I wholeheartedly agree. I wrote this chapter before I knew my husband and I would be blessed with our own long-awaited bundle of joy, but I can't wait for the upcoming day when I get to hold him or her in my arms! ^_^_


	17. Mistakes of My Youth

**Mistakes of My Youth**

"So, Father says that if I continue as I have this past year, he will hand-over half of the business to me on my next birthday. Half! I'll be the most powerful nineteen year old in the whole river valley!"

"You are to be congratulated, Diyan. You have done well. Just remember to use that power wisely."

Diyan grinned at his long time teacher, clasping him on the shoulder.

"Baruti, with your wisdom ringing in my ears, how could I fail to do anything but?"

Legolas acknowledged the compliment with a small nod to his pupil who now looked nearly the same age as he did, if one did not look too closely at the eyes.

"Say, Baruti, Saniya is coming for lunch. I have been wanting to introduce her to you for months, but between helping father and all of the summer feasting… Anyway, you are going to love her. She's amazing - gorgeous, smart, funny, rich…"

At the Elf's quirked eyebrow, Diyan laughed.

"Just teasing. Well, she _is_ rich, but I'd love her even if she came in off the streets destitute and in rags. Probably."

Diyan ducked with a laugh under the cuff aimed at the side of his head (little knowing it had been slowed down on purpose) and headed off to his rooms.

Legolas just shook his head and retreated to the kitchens to ensure they knew of the extra guest for lunch.

Lunch ended up being a picnic in the clearing. Leila just couldn't bear to be indoors on such a gorgeous fall day, and Diyan finally gave in to her persistent pleading. Saniya arrived to find the two siblings and their unusual tutor already packed and waiting outdoors. Her painstakingly curled hair and lacy dress attested to the fact that _she_ had not expected such a dining location, but with a stiff smile she assured them that it sounded like a lovely plan.

Diyan fawned over his lovely guest all through lunch, making sure she had a comfortable spot on the blanket, offering her the choicest bites of chicken, and recounting all the times he had spent here in the clearing with Baruti, Leila, and Mina.

"I don't think you have met Mina. She lives up in Engwar with her husband who is a healer. I think she is even better than he is though. Baruti taught her all about the Elven ways of healing."

Saniya reclined on the blanket as elegantly as she could, cooly regarding the often mentioned Elf as he served the three young people. Leila pointed off to some item of interest in the forest and whispered to him in some strange language Saniya had never heard before. He laughed quietly and replied in the same tongue. Saniya frowned slightly and sipped from her goblet.

"You seem to think highly of this… teacher. He must be a valuable slave indeed. I imagine he could be sold for a fortune when you outgrow his services."

The air froze. Diyan stared at her in concerned surprise while Leila turned a suddenly fierce glare on her. Legolas made no move but kept his eyes downcast, hiding any expression that might escape.

"What?" queried Saniya innocently. "He is your _slave_, isn't he?"

"Well, _yes_, technically…"

"Oh, how can you even say that, Diyan! Baruti is like family! He's not just some _slave_."

Legolas laid a gentle hand on Leila's arm, and she turned to him with anguished eyes.

"Well, you're not! Not to _me_, anyway. Not to Mina, or even to Diyan, if he would take two seconds away from…"

"Leila."

She hushed under Legolas's gentle reprimand.

"You are being discourteous to your brother's guest."

Leila sullenly eyed the austere woman and mumbled, "I apologize for speaking rudely."

"As do I," soothed Saniya. "I had no idea you felt so strongly for your… for Baruti. He is quite the… individual it seems."

Diyan sighed with relief and laughed off the incident, throwing himself into a discussion of his plans for his father's business next year. Leila, however, refused to say any more to Saniya and eventually hopped up for a walk in the woods. Legolas packed away the remains of lunch while keeping an eye out for Leila's whereabouts.

Eventually, he spied her slipping between the trees with a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. He caught the faint sounds of her humming and knew she had worked out the majority of her anger. Diyan and Saniya had fallen to staring at each other and trading trite platitudes by this time, so Legolas excused himself and met Leila in the clearing where she was weaving a crown of flowers.

"Remember when you first showed me how? I felt like a princess the first time I wore one."

Legolas took the completed crown and placed it upon her brow.

"You are one to me."

Leila blushed. With a laugh, she turned away and twirled about. Sunlight glinted off her free flowing hair, infusing streaks of gold into the deep ebony.

"Dance with me, my prince?"

Legolas blinked for a moment, before bowing and taking Leila's extended hand with a smile.

Saniya watched the strange slave that danced unashamedly with his owner's daughter. True, his breathtaking looks easily would have marked him worthy of any girl's attention if they were not marred by the thin silver collar that declared him as the house slave of a wealthy owner. Leila's carefree laugh brought a hardness to Saniya's eyes, and she quickly turned back to Diyan.

"I am surprised that your parents allow such unladylike behavior in their daughter."

"What? Oh... no she's just dancing with Baruti. She loves to dance when she's happy. And to sing. She has an amazing voice. She can charm a squirrel right out of a tree when she wants to."

"Or climb right up to it if it doesn't come to her?"

Diyan turned to find Leila swinging herself higher into the branches of one of the trees. She grinned and held out her hand to Baruti. The Elf just laughed, and with a spring faster than the eye could follow, launched himself into the tree and perched on a branch even higher yet. Diyan blushed as he looked back at the elegant beauty reclining gracefully while disdainfully watching his sister's antics.

"She still thinks she is a child sometimes, I guess."

"Obviously."

"More to drink? Or perhaps, if you are tired I could walk you back to the house."

"You are such a _gentleman_, Diyan. Truly a credit to your family."

Diyan beamed and led Saniya back down the wooded path unaware of the concerned eyes that watched them go or the sharp ears that had heard every word that had passed between them.

Legolas was helping with preparations for the evening meal when Diyan caught up with him. The exuberant youth did not notice the Elf's clouded expression as he expounded upon his lady's various virtues.

"So, what do you think, Baruti? I know she made that ridiculous remark about… well, anyway, Saniya didn't know what she was saying. She didn't mean anything by it, I'm sure. You know we would never…. I mean, if it were up to me, _when_ it is up to me... Well, you _are _like family, like Leila said. Your opinion means everything to me."

Legolas found himself fiddling with the armload of wood he was holding, avoiding Diyan's expectant look.

"You know her more than I. I do not know if I can form an accurate opinion about a person in one afternoon."

"Sure, sure. But you must have some sort of first impression."

Legolas sighed, and finally met Diyan's anxious gaze.

"Yes, but I am afraid it is not favorable."

"What? Just because she made one careless remark?"

"Diyan, you know I would not hold that against her."

"Then why? What could you possibly not like?"

"I fear she may be manipulative."

"How can you even say that?" Diyan's eyes flashed as his hands clenched at his sides, ready to defend his beloved.

"She turns you against your sister and puts others down that she might appear all the more desirable. It would be wise to be wary of such an individual." A strange look passed over the Elf's face but was gone too quickly for Diyan to have noticed.

"You heard her remark about Leila? Anyway, she has a point. Leila shouldn't be climbing trees at fifteen. It's just not proper for a lady of her position!"

Legolas just met his glare quietly. Diyan eventually dropped his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I guess I _did_ push you for an opinion. I hope it changes though. She's the one. I'm just _sure_ she's the one."

"As you say, sir."

Diyan gently punched Legolas on the shoulder.

"Aw, no need to get all uptight and formal on me. I'll be careful, and you'll see that she's wonderful after all."

Diyan sighed dreamily and headed back to the house for dinner.

Legolas watched him go, his brow furrowed.

"I hope so. I certainly hope so."

* * *

Raised voices roused Legolas from the blackness. He blinked and turned bleary eyes toward the solid oak door that could not entirely muffle the heated conversation on the other side.

"Fine, fine. But only for a few minutes. If your father finds out…"

"He won't. Thank you. You don't know what this means to us."

A noncommittal grunt preceded the jangle of keys in the lock. Then the door screeched open, and Leila pushed her way past Diyan into the dim cell. Her pale face grew even whiter at the sight of the bloodied form manacled to the wall. She cast herself at his side with a wordless cry and reached shaking fingers just a hair's breadth from the shadow shrouded figure.

Legolas lifted his head, and moonlight slid like a silver knife across the horrific steel muzzle fully enclosing the lower half of his face. Leila recoiled in horror, hands pressed tight against her mouth as if to stop the scream that might have escaped otherwise. Then her arms were clasped about his neck as she wept against his shoulder. Legolas shifted as if to hold her, but his wrists were chained together to an iron loop above his head. He settled for leaning his head against hers.

"Why, Baruti? Why? I don't understand!"

Diyan's silhouette finally unfroze from the doorway.

"It's all my fault."

The anguished whisper elicited a gasp from Leila, but Legolas only regarded him with sad eyes.

"You warned me… I only realized the truth too late! Why didn't I listen to you?"

Diyan buried his head in his hands.

"Forgive me, please, forgive me!"

"Diyan! What are you talking about? What did you do?"

"Saniya."

"What does _she_ have to do with this. I thought you broke off the engagement with that arrogant snob nearly a month ago."

"I did, but… she approached Father two days ago…"

"And…?"

"She said Baruti had bewitched us, that he had turned us against Father and that he planned to use me and… and seduce you."

"What! That's ridiculous! How could she say that? How could Father believe such outrageous lies?"

Diyan hung his head miserably.

"He cornered me… I didn't know what to do! I didn't want to lie. I thought maybe he would understand. I never dreamed it would end up like this."

"Understand what? Diyan, you are not making any sense!"

"He asked me if I would continue trading slaves as part of the business when I inherited it. I told him… I told him I wouldn't, that I thought it was wrong."

"Oh Diyan!" Leila threw her arms around her brother and hugged him. "Good for you! I can't believe you finally told him!"

"You don't understand, Leila! Father blames Baruti. He went berserk; I have never seen him so furious. Baruti, I am so sorry. I didn't know that Saniya had talked to him, that she had set you up. Please, believe me. I never meant this to happen. I wanted to free you!"

Blue eyes, filled with love and forgiveness, met the brown ones filled with remorse and self-reproach. Legolas extended his hand to Diyan as much as he could, and the young man reached up to take it. The firm clasp spoke the words the Elf could not mutter.

Leila glanced between the two, uncertainly.

"I don't understand. Diyan, I know Father is upset right now, but you can still do it… you can still set Baruti free in a few years… right?"

"He can't because Father sold him."

"Mina!"

Leila ran to hug her sister, then stopped short as her words registered.

"No… NO! It cannot be! He wouldn't… He can't! Baruti!"

Leila whirled back to her mentor, protector, and friend, her face begging him to make this nightmare go away. Legolas clenched his eyes and hung his head, helpless to protect her for the first time in sixteen years. Leila's knees gave way, and Mina caught her and helped ease her to the floor.

"No."

Mina held her trembling sister close, offering her the only comfort she could. Mina met Diyan's wretched gaze and held out her hand to him. Sheer gratitude passed across his expression at her understanding forgiveness for his unintended part in this tragedy.

"I'll buy you back. I'll… I'll save every penny; I've already got some put aside. It may take awhile, but I'll do whatever it takes!"

Mina looked down at Leila's determined expression of desperate hope with deep sorrow. Diyan turned away. Leila looked between the two of them challengingly.

"What? I can do it. I will! No matter how long."

"Leila… Father sold Baruti to an Easterling. They… they are leaving in the morning."

Leila bolted to her feet thrashing wildly against Mina's best attempts to restrain her.

"I hate him! I HATE him!"

The loud clash of metal chains striking together brought all eyes to Legolas who had struggled into a kneeling position. His intense gaze burned into Leila's conscience, and she turned away hugging her arms tightly against her.

"You can't ask me to do this. Not for _him_. Not after what he's done."

The blue eyes never blinked. At last Leila could take it no more, and she buried her face in her hands before sinking down by his side.

"I don't know that I _can_ ever forgive him, Baruti. But I will try. For your sake, I will try. Why do you always have to be so right!"

Momentarily merry eyes full of tears met those drowning in despair and did their best to lift their spirit. Leila threw her arms about him and nestled her face against his chest, realizing if was for the last time. Legolas touch his forehead to her own, then looked up at the other children, now grown adults really, that he had cared for and loved with all his heart. They accepted his wordless invitation and joined in the embrace. Though Legolas could not wrap his arms about them, his heart held them close. Silent tears slipped down upon the clustered heads.

Leila's whisper spoke for them all, "We will never forget you, Baruti. Never."


	18. Counting the Cost

**Counting the Cost**

_In the dark depths of a foreign mine,  
__Who cares for the sorrow of a silent stranger?  
__Who looks with pity on another's woe  
__When consumed by one's own torment?  
__It is a starless night with no hope for an end  
__Except through life's final gasp._

_Crushed beneath the mountains,  
__Caught in the iron grasp of ignorant suspicion and hatred,  
__It seems only fitting that war would be the way back to the surface.  
__The blade of the stranger can fend off the Goblin hordes  
__As well as any native, perhaps even better.  
__And if he dies, who would mourn him?  
__The blade is a tool to be used not loved,  
__Wielded not wept over.  
__The long years of struggle can only sharpen and temper.  
__How convenient to have such a useful blade at one's disposal._

_Yet what to do with a blade of conscience?  
__What to do when it cuts the cords  
__That were to carry a mother from her family?  
__Clearly it is no longer fit to be a warrior's blade.  
__It's only good as bauble to be displayed for amusement._

_What crowd has pity for the caged animal?  
__What mob doesn't scream for the blood of a beleaguered combatant?  
__What stone isn't cast, what insult isn't hurled?  
__What heart isn't hardened by the constant abuse?  
__Who can sing when the heart is screaming for it all to just end?_

_One pair of eyes see.  
__One small pair of hands reach out.  
__One small cup of water and one small crust of bread.  
__One moment of compassion.  
__Sometimes, one is all it takes to keep back the void.  
__Even a child is known by his doing,  
__And sometime the faith of a child is what it takes to endure._

_So what to do when the rare bauble no longer excites the crowd?  
__Eventually the tarnished blade has to be traded for some new make -  
__So what if it's not the same quality?  
__The crowd won't stick around long enough to notice.  
__Perhaps the old blade will fetch a good price in foreign lands._

_Strange that twenty-five years ago  
__Someone else thought the same thing._

Wind whipped over the barren waste flinging dust about the gaunt figure silhouetted by the hazy dawn. Layers of grime overlapped layers of open and healing wounds that mottled the bare chest and arms while tattered patches covered worn trousers of an indeterminate color. A wisp of scraggly, matted hair flickered across the painfully thin face. But the pale blue eyes that faced the rising sun glinted like refined gold. A wistful smile tugged at the corner of the taut mouth. Ever the Song continued, even here.

A bell clanged garishly in the distance, and Legolas turned with a sigh from the beauty of the morning to the harsh reality of the desolation about him. Gravel crunched under his bare feet as he picked his way back down the edge of the devastated hill. Gloomy mist still swirled about the piteous slaves huddled miserably before the gaping hole that would soon swallow them in its depths. Yet it seemed the Elf brought some of the sun's warmth with him, for the mood lightened considerably as he passed through the small group offering a quiet word here and there or a firm hand clasp.

The dirty, disheveled, and drunk (as usual) human being who staggered out to address his property may have held sway over the slaves' lives, but it was the Elf who fought to keep them alive. Only two slaves had died in the last three years since Uri had bought the strange creature from some trader returning from the East. That nearly miraculous fact alone gave Uri some pause to think the trader may not have been entirely lying about all the wild stories he'd told about the Elf. Either way, Uri despised the Elf with a cruel hatred born of jealousy and fear. Those in the dark never like it when the light walks among them.

Legolas's body ached as he moved past the meager rations allotted for the slaves' breakfast. The master had come up with some pretext for denying him even that paltry nourishment - again. Three years of semi-starvation had taken their toll, and Legolas trembled as he heaved against the weight of the empty cart. He began the descent into the long blackness of the coal mine which the dim torches did little to overcome. The light grew faint behind him as each step carried him deeper into the dark. Legolas had become all too familiar with the deep dark of the bowels of the earth in the mountains of the East. At least here the brutal work was eased by the companionship of his fellow slaves. Three of the other slaves managed to slip him small pieces of bread smuggled from their own rations throughout the day. Three small flares to shine like beacons in the night.

Another long day wore by, punctuated by the lash and curses of the burly overseer Terem. He focused more "attention" on ensuring Legolas performed his duties than on all the other slaves combined. Legolas knew this was one reason many of the other slaves were still alive; few could hold out long against such severe treatment. Still, the Elf inwardly blessed the clang that signaled the end of the day.

Sweat trickled down him, making rivulets in the dirt and stinging as it passed over fresh wounds. The yoke cut into him as he heaved the full cart towards the opening. Its crushing weight pressing against his chest made it nearly impossible to breathe. Black spots danced before his eyes, and there was a dull roaring in his ears. Then, the track leveled off and the pressure decreased. With a gasping groan, Legolas heaved the cart into its spot and practically collapsed on the ground. His hands were shaking so hard he could not undo the straps, and his usually nimble fingers fumbled with the buckles.

Unexpectedly, another pair of grimy fingers loosened the clasps, and yet another lifted the heavy yoke from his aching back. Suddenly, he could breathe freely, and the cooling night air rushed in to his burning lungs. Calloused hands helped him limp to a spot where he could lean against the side of the coal shed, and a cup full of tepid water appeared in his hands. He relished every drop. Then he turned grateful eyes on his companions. The compassionate concern on each face lent a nobility to the scraggly men gathered around him. Another moment of beauty amidst the ashes.

"Thanks. I guess I overdid it."

That brought a round of raucous laughter and cheeky comments. Finally, Deran, who was missing about as many teeth as he had left, gave him a hand up still shaking his head and chortling.

"What's all that racket?"

The slaves scattered, flying to look busy as the glowering overseer turned the corner. The steely eyes settled on the still somewhat shaky Elf now perched on top of the cart shoveling the contents into a storage bin.

"Come 'ere, Elf."

Legolas obediently set down his shovel and dropped to the ground, keeping his eyes lowered appropriately.

"Seeing as you got all kinds of energy for playing games, you can scrub the meal pots after you're through with your regular duties. And they had better be _spotless_ this time, got it?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now get back to work, the lot of ya!"

Terem cuffed Legolas a parting blow along the ribs before stalking off to complete his rounds. Legolas turned weary eyes back to his work and lifted his shovel with leaden arms. It would be a long night.

Well after midnight, Legolas finished scrubbing the last of the putrid sludge stuck to the bottom of the large pots. He set the last one on the work table to dry and quietly slipped out the kitchen's side door. Uri and Terem had been drinking, laughing, and fighting far into the night as well, but in the last few minutes a quiet had descended on the squalid dwelling that suggested the men had either fallen asleep or passed out. Legolas's bet was on the latter. Still, he did not want to risk the chance of waking the master and incurring his wrath.

As Legolas stepped out into the cloudy night, he noticed a dark form prostrate on the ground. The Elf recoiled a step when closer investigation revealed Uri passed out in a pool of his own vomit. A cold look crackled in Legolas's features for a moment. Then he shook it away, and his eyes softened. Gently, Legolas checked the man's pulse and eased him out of the revolting mess. Fetching a damp cloth, he wiped away the caked vomit as best he could, particularly ensuring Uri's mouth and nose were clear.

Deran came up just as Legolas was holding a cup of fresh water to the still semi-unconscious man's lips. Both slaves froze. Deran's eyes scanned the scene quickly then turned on the Elf with guarded concern.

"What are you doing?"

"He needed help."

Deran just gaped at the being before him.

"He might have perished before anyone else found him."

"All the better!"

"Deran!"

"After all he has done! Do you think to gain his favor? Get an edge on the rest of us?"

It was the Elf's turn to stare quietly at the old man who eventually dropped his gaze in shame.

"Well, it won't do you no good, so why bother."

Legolas looked down at the reeking form of his tormentor slumped helplessly against him.

"When you start repaying evil for evil, you lose everything."

Memories haunted the Elf's eyes. Almost he could hear the clash of steel and screams of the wounded mixing with the roar of the crowd. Then, dark eyes and a timid smile flashed before him. Legolas met Deran's sullen look with conviction.

"It takes much more to love one's enemies than to kill them. But that choice is what keeps one from following in their path. I choose to keep my soul, no matter the cost."

Deran avoided the Elf's penetrating gaze, but sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"You are a strange being indeed, Elf. Do as you wish. I am going back to bed."

Legolas watched Deran shuffle off into the night, then turned back to his charge. He stood, and staggering under Uri's bulky weight, Legolas half carried, half dragged the man to his run-down shanty. After easing him down into the disheveled bunk, Legolas draped a thin coverlet over him and set another cup of water within arm's reach.

At the door, Legolas paused and looked back at the slumbering individual. His master. The one who owned him. The one who beat him and starved him and would probably eventually kill him. Saving Uri's life would most likely cost Legolas his own. But if anything, his time in the East had taught him that nothing is worth trading in exchange for a soul, not even one's own life.

"So be it."

Legolas slipped out into the still night that overflowed with the song of the stars.

* * *

_AN- Thank you again to all who have taken the time to review. It truly makes my day! I also wanted to let those of you know who are interested that this chapter marks the end of part two of this rather long epic I ended up writing. The next chapter should begin the transition to part 3 which is the beginning of the end, though it will still be quite awhile before this whole story is told. My goal is to finish this story by May, but that is quite the monumental task so no guarantees. Thanks again for all your input and encouragement. _

_- Mia ^_^_


	19. If I Perish, I Perish

**If I Perish, I Perish**

"Faster! Getting slow in your old age Elf. Time was you could get this cart to market by midmorning! Now, I'll be doing good to get lunch! Move!"

Legolas, of course, would not be getting lunch anyway, but it no longer even occurred to him to voice such thoughts out-loud. There was no point, and he wouldn't have had the breath anyway. Every fiber of his being ached under the strain of the loaded cart, and his raw lungs burned with each rattling gasp. Each week Uri had him haul the coal to the small settlement that passed for civilization on this sparsely populated Southern edge of the Rhun sea. A trading post, blacksmith, and tavern were the only businesses, and the tavern saw the best business by far.

However, the blacksmith was Uri's intended destination today. At least, it was his first intended destination. The tavern would be a close second, and if he was sober enough to remember the scanty provisions left at the mine, the trading post would be the third. Legolas would stay behind at the blacksmith's to unload the cart. He felt conflicted over hoping Uri would be away long enough for him to rest for the return journey and hoping the man wouldn't get so drunk he forgot what he really came to town for.

"Make trouble and your dead," snarled Uri as he lumbered off to the tavern, already licking his dry lips.

Legolas just shook his head and turned back to the laden cart. _He_ was not the one who needed that warning. His shovel crunched in the loose coal. If they returned to the mine by midnight, it would be a miracle.

* * *

The clatter of hooves jerked Legolas from his sleep, his bleary eyes snapping open. Stiff, sore muscles groaned in protest as he uncurled from the moldy hay in which he had lain half-hidden behind the cart. It was best to conceal oneself as much as possible while sleeping; it helped reduce the number of rude awakenings. But the gruff voices coming from the other end of the smithy did not match any Legolas expected to hear. Too experienced to rush in to anything, Legolas quickly ducked into the shadows and maneuvered himself into position to see what was going on.

His eyes narrowed as he spied the darkly clothed figures dismounting from muddy, winded horses. The glint of knives, at least one bow, and other bulges Legolas recognized as concealed weapons of various sorts further confirmed his suspicions about the lawless nature of the three individuals. However it was the small bundle dumped unceremoniously in a corner that riveted his attention.

"Ouch!"

One of the men turned and backhanded the dirty face that had emerged from the oversized cowl knocking the young child back to the ground.

"Keep your mouth shut, boy, or I'll give you something real to cry about!"

Tears welled in the boy's large blue eyes as he held a grubby hand to his rapidly swelling cheek, but he made no other sound. Rather, he turned a baleful glare on the speaker, raising his head defiantly.

The man snarled and stepped forward as if to strike the boy again, but one of the others grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Come on, Rance. Leave off. The brat's quiet, so let's just get what we need and get out of here."

Rance cast a last glare at the huddled child before turning back to his companions.

"Farl, you're with me. Dugan, you watch the kid till we get back with the supplies, and make sure the horses are tended."

"Just be quick, all right? They say their horses can out fly the wind!" mumbled Dugan, constantly glancing off to the West.

Rance also checked the Western horizon that had begun to glow with the colors of the setting sun. Apparently not seeing what he feared, Rance motioned to the silent Farl and started out into the darkening street. Dugan set about feeding and watering the weary horses, making sure to keep one eye always on his tiny charge.

By now, Legolas knew the boy was in serious trouble. He wasn't sure why the men wanted the child who clearly did not belong to them, but it had to be nefarious in nature. Legolas could not abandon the boy to his fate, but his skin prickled with a cold sweat as thoughts of the consequences of his last heroics stabbed through him. Yet he would also never forget the gratitude in her eyes. It was his shield against what had happened next, his proof that his sufferings were not in vain. He allowed the memory to wash through him afresh.

_Legolas slipped open the cell door as quietly as he possibly could, wincing as it grated on rusty hinges. The woman within drew back as far as her chains would allow staring fearfully at Legolas with a tear-stained face._

"_Easy Saji, it's me, Ghareem."_

"_Ghareem! What..?"_

"_Hush, we must move quickly. It is all arranged."_

_Legolas quickly inserted another key into the manacles and helped the freed woman to her feet._

"_I don't understand. Elija did he… is he…"_

"_Your husband is fine. As is your son. They are waiting for you outside the gates. We must get to them quickly before your absence is discovered."_

_As the truth dawned on the trembling young woman, she gasped, hope flaring in her eyes. But terror soon followed._

"_It is too dangerous! They will catch us and kill us, and how is that any better?"_

_Legolas gently held a finger to her lips, silencing her distraught whispers._

"_Perhaps they will catch you, and I cannot protect you from the consequences if they do. But I intend to ensure that that doesn't happen in the first place."_

"_You're going to use your magic to cover our tracks." Saji stared up at the strange being in a mixture of gratitude and awe._

"_I have no magic, Saji, but I will do all I can to prevent them from finding you. I hope to give you a day or two head start at least."_

"_But what of you? The master will kill you, though you are the hero of the wars and his prize possession!"_

"_So be it. If I perish, I perish. I will not stand by while a mother is ripped from her infant son."_

_The Elf's grim eyes glimmered in the dark of the castle corridors, and Saji understood why Goblins reportedly ran from the Elf's very gaze. He was an alien creature indeed. Then Saji caught sight of Elija standing next to a waiting horse. She could not help the tears of joy that ran freely down her face as she embraced the husband she never thought she would see again and held the son she thought she would never know as a man. _

_Saji looked back at Ghareem, the stranger, the eerie being who came from who knew where to lead in the route of the hordes that had threatened to overthrow the humans dwelling along the mountains. She had never been close to him, not that anyone really had. Elves were the stuff of whispered tales of horror and mystery, and few could comfortably converse with a being from their childhood nightmares. But now, she looked, really looked at him for the first time. He stood there in the shadows, freely offering up his own life for the sake of her family, and she saw no regret in his eyes. He smiled up at her gently._

"_It is time. You must go and go quickly. Ride to the lands of the West, to Gondor if possible. I will do what I can for you here."_

_Saji nodded, clutched her infant son to her, and turned to mount her horse, but she hesitated and turned back to the Elf. Reaching out her free hand, she drew his head down and kissed his brow. She met his startled eyes with her own full of gratitude._

"_Thank you. You will not be forgotten."_

_Nor would Legolas ever forget the sight of the two horses and riders slipping off into the shadows of the night._

"_Go in peace, friends. Go in peace."_

His efforts had paid off, and they had never been seen again. Yet it was only a matter of time before his own role in the escape was uncovered. Legolas had prepared himself for the possibility of death, but that would have been a blessing compared to what came next. Legolas took a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. That was different. That was the East. As lawless as the Wilderland was, it had yet to match the East in its torments.

Legolas returned his attention to the kidnapper readying the horses, a plan formulating in his mind as his emotions settled into a firm resolve. Come what may, he could not turn a blind eye to the boy's plight. Let Uri do his worst, he would rather that than the living death of staying silent.

Of course, he wouldn't have to face Uri at all if he kept right on riding after rescuing the boy. The thought shot through him like an arrow through glass, threatening to fracture him into a thousand pieces. Legolas shoved it ruthlessly to the back of his mind. If he wrestled with all the implications of that thought now, he would miss his opportunity to act altogether. Right now, his focus had to be on the little boy who needed his help.

The Elf saw his opening as Dugan stooped to rearrange the items in his saddle bags. Legolas caught the man's unconscious form before it fell to the ground and quickly concealed him behind the coal cart.

The boy stared at Legolas with wide eyes, but he made no move to run. Legolas secured the kidnapper's knives and bow, then turned and knelt before the waiting child.

"Hello."

The child fixed Legolas in a penetrating stare, searching his features for a clue on how to react to this sudden new figure. Legolas waited a moment for him to finish his observations then replied to the wordless query in the boy's eyes.

"I am a friend here to help you. You can call me... Mellon. What is your name?"

Legolas tried to appear calm as he waited for the boy to answer. The Elf could do nothing if the child did not choose to trust him, but considering the circumstances, it was a lot to ask. Finally, the boy spoke, cocking his head to one side and narrowing his eyes slightly.

"You're different."

"Yes. I am an Elf."

A light dawned in the tiny face, and a grin spread from his lips to his eyes.

"I always wanted to meet an Elf! Momma told me lots of stories about them!" Grief passed over his features. "I want to go home. I want my Momma and my Da."

Legolas held out a hand to the poor waif once again close to tears. After a moment, the boy allowed himself to be drawn closer to the Elf. Legolas used a corner of the boy's cloak to wipe the tears away.

"Then lets go there now. Is your home nearby?"

The boy shook his head. "No. We rode for days and days."

Legolas's heart sank. He had no idea how to find the boy's parents, and there was no one likely to help in this area. The locals would be as likely to kidnap the child themselves as to help him. Still, he couldn't leave the boy to his uncertain fate.

"I see. Do you know what direction you came from?"

The boy peeked uncertainly out the door then pointed to the West.

"Well then, we'd better get going."

Legolas stood and lifted his acquired charge onto the nearest horse. After releasing the other two horses and instructing them to follow him, Legolas sprang up behind the boy and nudged the horse forward. Legolas barely heard the boy's whisper above the clatter of the horses' hooves as they proceeded through the back door out into the night.

"Vid."

"What was that, little friend?"

"Vid. My name is Vid."

Legolas smiled down at the boy and clasped him lightly on the shoulder.

"It is an honor to meet you, Vid."

The trio of horses moved through the night, well hidden in the shadows behind the derelict buildings. Suddenly a shout rent the night air along with the sound of boots pounding on the dusty street. Legolas nudged the horses into a gallop as they cleared the last building into the open prairie. Curses filled the air behind them, but to the Elf's relief no hoofbeats could be heard but their own.

Once they were beyond the curve of a distant hill, Legolas sent the two riderless horses away in opposite directions with instructions to go anywhere they pleased but back to the town. Then Legolas set his horse's nose to the West and urged him on into the night. They had a long road ahead of them.

* * *

_AN- __Thanks again to all who reviewed! Just to clear up a bit of confusion that may have resulted from my tendency to be a bit nebulous ^_^, nearly thirty years have passed since Legolas was separated from the three children. About twenty-five of those years were spent in the East. Those years are referred to in the prose poem of the previous chapter, and I will try to include flashbacks of the most important moments. I hope I did not confuse anyone too much. I simply realized that if I took the time to tell all of Legolas's adventures straight on I would never get this story finished. ^_^ Thanks for reading! ~ Mia_


	20. The Faith of a Child

**The Faith of a Child**

It was nearly noon when disaster struck. The horse, exhausted from the hard travel by the kidnappers and further depleted from the continuous ride through the night, stumbled and fell going down a small hill. Legolas barely managed to throw Vid and himself free from the falling animal in time to escape being crushed. Landing on his back with Vid on top of him still left him winded for several moments however.

Vid, startled from the fitful slumber into which he had fallen, scrambled up and away from the Elf with a cry, looking about him with alarm. Yet as Legolas gingerly heaved himself up, recognition finally clicked in the boy's eyes, and most of his terror faded.

"What happened?"

"It seems," grunted Legolas as new bruises made acquaintances with the old ones, "that our horse lost his footing."

"Oh!" Vid looked worriedly down to where the horse was attempting to right itself at the bottom of the incline. "I think he hurt his foreleg."

Legolas glanced in surprise at the child. "It does seem that way. Been around horses some, have you?"

They made their way down as Vid replied, "My dad raises the best horses in the whole world!"

Concern over the horse's condition prevented further discussion. His foreleg was indeed hurt, quite severely, although Legolas did not think there was an actual break. Remounting was entirely out of the question. To make matters worse, Legolas realized that most of the arrows had been broken by his fall.

Panicked despair coursed through him as he considered their dire situation. The amount of food and water in the requisitioned saddle bags had been scanty already. Now, they were on foot in a remote region with little hope of nourishing themselves for much longer, much less finding the boy's family. Legolas closed his eyes and leaned his head wearily against his fist as he knelt on the ground inspecting the remnants of their provisions. He was so _tired_ of fighting battles that seemed rigged against him.

He barely restrained himself from jumping as two small hands found their way to clasp around his neck. Vid nestled his head against Legolas's shoulder with his eyes closed.

"I'm scared. But I'm glad you're here."

As Legolas looked down in amazement at the child confident in his blind trust of the Elf, memories of another child in another place rushed over him.

_Legolas snarled at the gaping crowd surrounding his cage. That, of course, only fed their delight and a few screamed with thrilled terror while a few threw more rocks through the bars. The same. It was always the same. No matter what wretched collection of huts they dragged him to, the faces on the other side of the bars were all the same - feverishly enthralled and maliciously cruel. _

_He made a great spectacle, he knew - bloodshot eyes; wild, matted hair; and gaunt body smeared with grime and old blood. A fearsome demon straight from the most terrifying tales of the night. The crowd ate it up, and Legolas hated them. He growled again (speech was a privilege strictly forbidden in front of an audience) and lashed the chain connecting his collar to the ground against the bars. That sent the crowd scrambling, at least for a moment, then they were right back - pointing, taunting, prodding. _

_Legolas gave up what he knew to be a hopeless cause and curled up in the least accessible corner of his cage. The Ringleader would have no trouble getting him to fight tonight. The audience might even get to witness a kill. Part of Legolas recoiled in horror at such murderous fury. But he had been fighting it for so long, so very long. Months? Years? He didn't know. He didn't care. He only wanted a moment's peace. He wanted it so badly he might just kill for it. _

_A weathered face stared sorrowfully at him from the recesses of his memory, but Legolas turned away. There was no place for forgiveness here, no place for compassion, no place for Iluvatar's Song. It had failed. All was just a silent scream of horror in a deaf land. Blood would drip from his knife tonight and make no sound at all._

_At last the crowd thinned, no doubt hurrying to buy a ticket for the big show. The Keeper came around with the evening's ration of water. Food would come afterwards, a reward for a good performance. Legolas almost leered at the thought. What would they bring him tonight? _

_The Keeper glared through the bars at the Elf, and Legolas glared back. Without breaking off the staring match, the Easterling very deliberately dipped out a full cup of water and slowly poured it in front of the rusted pan that served as the Elf's water dish. Still silent, the man replaced his cup and walked away without a backward glance._

_Legolas's glower pierced the man's back until he was completely hidden from sight. Then the Elf's shoulders slumped as despair replaced the ebbing rage. He let his fingers glide through the rapidly diminishing puddle and tried to capture at least a few drops to ease the burning of his parched mouth. It was a hopeless task, just like everything else in this forsaken place. Legolas slumped against the bars, his head falling forward in defeat. Hopeless. It was all hopeless._

"_Are you thirsty?"_

_Legolas sprang away from the bars and whirled to locate the new intruder on his misery. A lone Easterling, a boy, stood a few feet away. Legolas eyed the boy warily. What youth lacked in experience in tormenting they made up for in ingenuity. He would have to be on his guard. The boy took a small step forward, and the Elf crouched ready to dodge whatever missile was hidden in the small hands. _

"_I saw what the guard did. That was mean."_

_Legolas wasn't buying it. Pity was a foreign concept in this wretched land. It was only a ploy to hide the boy's real objective. Legolas searched the small face browned by the sun and half hidden under a shock of black hair. He had to give the boy credit; the deep brown eyes betrayed no hint of his devious intentions. The child took another hesitant step closer, and Legolas also slid back._

_The boy froze and bit his lip uncertainly, his brow scrunching. He looked down at the objects in his hands, but Legolas kept his focus on the boy's face. That was usually the best indicator of when to expect the attack. _

"_Guess nobody's been nice to you in a long time, huh? It's not right!" _

_Legolas caught his breath as the boy looked up and met the Elf's gaze with tears glistening in his eyes. All at once, the boy was at the bars shoving something through. Legolas started back in alarm, then froze as he saw what the boy held - a chunk of bread and a water flask. _

_The boy met his incredulous stare openly. He held the bread and water as far out as he could, then set them down and scooted them forward when the Elf made no move toward them. At last Legolas crept slowly forward and gingerly picked up the flask. It was nearly full. He cautiously took a sip, half expecting some dreadful concoction, but only the blessed relief of tepid water registered on his swollen tongue. Legolas barely had enough self-control not to choke the whole flask down in one gulp. As it was, he managed to guzzle over half of it before coming up for air. Then he remembered the bread and that too disappeared at a ravenous rate. The second half of the flask lasted longer; Legolas took the time to savor each sip, allowing the precious moisture to roll about rejuvenating his dry mouth. Still, even that was gone all too soon, and he lowered the empty flask with a sigh._

"_I'm sorry it wasn't much. It was all I had with me."_

_Legolas turned to his young benefactor who looked up at him sorrowfully through the bars. Slowly the Elf moved to kneel beside him. The boy showed no sign of fear or horror at his approach whereas most grown men would not dare to be so close without a weapon of some sort, and these days there had been some merit to that precaution. Legolas handed the flask back to the boy through the bars. As the boy reached to take it back, Legolas clasped the small brown hand in his own. The child looked up at him startled._

"_Thank you."_

_The boy's eyes grew wide in astonishment then crinkled with a shy smile._

_His voice, though barely a whisper, trembled with joy and conviction, "I knew you weren't a monster. I just knew it!" _

_Elf and boy stared at each other across the expanses that separated them and shared a smile. A warning shout from the Keeper broke the moment, but as the boy scampered off into the twilight, he turned back for a final wave. Legolas lifted a hand in farewell in return as he whispered a blessing after the vanishing figure._

_When the Keeper came to fetch him that night, he found the Elf seated quietly, gazing out at the stars, and humming a wordless tune to the night. Tears slid like jeweled notes down his face. Ever the Song continued, even here._

_The only blood spilled that night was Legolas's own, for he had simply knelt in the dirt and sung quietly to himself as the chaos raged around him. Let them do their worst, they could only affect his body. His soul had been saved by the faith of a child._

Legolas wrapped an arm around the fair-haired boy clinging to him in innocent confidence, so similar in heart to the nameless child countless miles away. Iluvatar help him, he would not betray this boy's trust either.

With renewed determination, Legolas set about collecting the surviving supplies into the saddle bags which he slung about his neck. He unsaddled the horse and released it to find its way as best it could, then bent down and motioned Vid onto his back. The boy clambered aboard and clasped his hands around the Elf's neck. Legolas grinned back at him as he stood, hitching him up into a secure position.

"Since our horse is indisposed, I guess I will have to do."

He had forgotten how much he missed a child's giggle ringing in his ears.


	21. Curiosity and Cats

**Curiosity and Cats  
**

Vid enjoyed the novelty of playing horse with his new friend for almost an hour before growing tired of the pastime. He had slept through most of the journey prior to the horse's fall, and consequently, his four-and-a-half-year-old mind was wide awake and ready for input. He amused himself for awhile studying his surroundings.

Sunlight glistened on the golden brown of the prairie grasses as they rustled in the cool breeze. Occasionally a cloud passed overhead dappling the terrain in a dusty blue before rushing on in its invisible path. Little brown birds swooped and soared in chase of the sprightly crickets and other flittering insects that filled the prairie with a steady thrum.

A darker smudge had appeared on the horizon ahead of them, and Vid wondered for several minutes whether it was a part of the sky or the land. He finally decided it wasn't puffy enough to be a cloud. Maybe it was a hill with a cave, and they could spend the night in it! He had heard some of his father's men talking about that once and had longed for the privilege of such an adventure ever since. Vid had to make sure the Elf had thought of such a brilliant plan as well.

"If there's a cave in that hill, we could sleep there. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

The blue eyes that glanced back at him twinkled in the afternoon sun and a smile played around the quirked lips.

"Very nice indeed, my friend, an excellent idea. I hope we shall get to do just that!"

Vid beamed. Elves were the best ever. He was so glad he had met one. For the next few minutes, he studied his new friend. His ears were so pointy! If only Vid could have had pointy ears, he was sure that would have been much better. The Elf was kind of dirty though, and it looked like he had fallen off a lot of horses - he had a lot of ouchies. That made Vid sad for his new friend. He would have to show Mellon how to stay on better. Vid never fell off his pony, well, almost never anyway.

That thought, of course, turned his mind to the far away home. Oh how he wished he were there now! A tear slipped down his chin and disappeared in the folds of his cloak. He sniffed the rest back. He was nearly all grown up, after all, and grown ups didn't cry. He had to be brave like his father. Besides, he had Mellon here to help him.

It was as he rubbed away the tears on his sleeve that he noticed the funny mark on the Elf's shoulder. He couldn't get a good look at it without moving his arm and the pack, but it looked like it might be some sort of picture. Sometimes the men would paint designs on their faces at the big gatherings or before they rode off on a big trip. Mom even painted his face one time. He had felt so grown up and brave. Then they had all danced and sung by the big fire in his father's hall. There had been a big feast too. His tummy rumbled at the thought of food, reminding him that the small breakfast had been a long time ago.

"Hey! We forgot to eat lunch!"

Legolas blinked in surprise. He _had_ forgotten lunch, the concept of a midday meal being so long removed from his experience. He checked the sky, noting that the sun sat quite low in the West by now. However, the hills were significantly closer, and if all went well, they would reach them by nightfall. The shelter of a cave or even an overhang would be welcome by then since the winds spoke of a coming storm. Still, there was probably enough time for them to make a short stop. Besides, his arms could use a bit of a break.

Legolas stopped and swung Vid down, and the two flopped companionably amidst the prairie grass sending a veritable horde of grasshoppers scattering for new cover. The pleasant dusty aroma of sun-baked earth and dry grass wafted drowsily about them, and the afternoon sun radiated a soothing warmth from the pale blue sky.

Legolas handed Vid a small piece of dried cheese and a piece of a traveling cake. Vid dug in to the compact bread ravenously, but stopped when he realized the Elf had not pulled any out for himself.

"Aren't you going to eat? You gotta be hungry."

Legolas was hungry, but then, he couldn't remember the last time he had _not_ been hungry. With so few rations and an unknown distance to travel, Legolas wanted to make sure the boy had enough, whereas missing a few meals would be nothing new to him.

"You go ahead. I don't usually eat much."

"I guess not, cause you're _really_ skinny."

Legolas had no idea what to say to that. He settled for pulling out the water flask and taking a drink before passing it to the munching boy. At least with the coming storm, they wouldn't have to worry about water. Legolas worked on rearranging the bags as Vid finished his last few bites, staring contemplatively at the Elf all the while.

"Oh! It's some kind of dragon, only it's got a funny shape in the middle."

Legolas froze, already dreading the question he knew was coming.

"Why do you have a funny dragon on your shoulder? Wouldn't the paint come off?"

Legolas turned to face the little boy so innocently pressing a smoldering iron to his heart. The "paint" hadn't come off, though every other wound no matter how severe had faded with time. Yet the brand clung to him with a malicious force. It was a constant reminder - a reminder that it had a right to be there.

"A… man I knew once put it there to let people know that I… worked for him. The… paint he used was a special kind that doesn't come off."

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"He… wasn't a very nice man, and the… paint hurt when he put it on."

"Oh." Concern creased Vid's small brow. "Does it still hurt?"

Legolas smiled at the boy's sincere concern.

"Don't worry, little friend. You aren't hurting me a bit."

Vid nodded with relief and allowed himself to be remounted on the Elf's back. As the two continued on their journey in the waning afternoon, Vid fell asleep with his rosy cheek nestled against the Elf's shoulder, right over Legolas's brand.

Legolas had now been a slave for nearly half his life. After seventy-five years of serving and suffering as a slave, the concept of freedom was almost foreign to him. What would he do? Where would he go? Even with all Benoni's coaxing, Legolas could never let go of the fact that he was an outcast of his people. Perhaps a life of solitude would be better than one under the sting of the whip and the slow torture of starvation. But then, what would happen to the other slaves back at the mine? Uri's wrath would be terrible. Could he live with the knowledge that he had let them die horrible deaths to save himself? Was that a price he was willing to pay for an eternity of solitary wandering? Besides, he would never wander so far that he would escape the demon that clung to his shoulder.

Legolas shook his head, trying to clear it of such dark thoughts. He purposely avoided thoughts about escape and freedom for this very reason. They only opened up old wounds and plagued him with doubts and questions he felt he would never answer. It was far safer to simply focus on the task at hand, the day ahead, the current obstacle to be surmounted. Freedom was the forbidden fruit that tantalized, certainly, but would only bring heartache in its wake.

The ground shifted abruptly from prairie sod to more solid rock, and Legolas abruptly realized that they had arrived at the hills. Relief flooded through him, as much for an excuse to abandon his musings as for reaching their destination. A quick scan revealed the hoped for cave, and Legolas felt his heart lighten. In a few minutes, he had climbed the gentle slope of rock and grass to the opening and determined that the grotto would be quite suitable for a night's shelter. The mouth of the cave was high enough that Legolas could stand and, while he would have to crouch past the first few feet, it remained relatively open all the way to the back wall about fifteen feet away.

Legolas looked back at Vid, regretting that he must interrupt the boy's peaceful repose.

"Vid. Vid? It's time to wake up. We are here at the cave."

The boy twitched then slowly blinked open his eyes. Confusion still clouded them for a moment, but then he noticed their surroundings and practically flung himself from the Elf's back.

"A cave! We get to sleep in a cave!"

Legolas laughed aloud as Vid hopped about with sheer joy.

"Indeed we do, and I was wondering if I could have your help in preparing our camp. You seem like a trusty helper."

Vid puffed up his chest with pride and nodded gravely.

"Excellent! The first thing we must do is clear out some of the debris in here to make room for us."

Vid was collecting brush and rocks before Legolas could even finish his sentence. In a short time the shallow limestone cave was cleared, the provisions were neatly stacked to one side, and a few dry twigs had been collected for a small fire. Legolas did not want to risk much light since the cave's opening faced back the way they had come, but a small fire would provide a bit of warmth and cheer that would be most beneficial for Vid. Legolas just hoped the storm that rolled in with the twilight and made the fire necessary would obscure the tiny light from any prying eyes.

Despite the pale dust that seemed to cling to _everything _and the musty odor that permeated the cave, Vid seemed to enjoy the experience, especially toasting his cheese and alloted bit of bread. Legolas had been amused by the child's insistence on doing so but decided that any change of pace in the monotonous fare would help the boy stomach it longer. Legolas even decided to toast his own meager ration he allowed himself after the long day's march.

Vid was an inquisitive child and asked questions all through the evening. How did that little plant manage to grow on the wall? Why did the fire have to be near the door? Why did the wind come before the rain? Legolas did his best to appease the boy's curiosity, and the cheerful chatter added a companionable atmosphere to the now somewhat damp cave.

But at last the tiny fire died down, the rain picked up, and night fully enclosed the two travelers. Vid seemed less thrilled with their current residence as he tried to find a comfortable place to curl up for the night. Legolas tried helping him wrap his cloak about him in such a way to keep out the chill from both air and stone, but the boy still tossed, turned, and whimpered unhappily. At last, Legolas quietly called Vid over, and the boy shuffled up to the Elf who was reclining against the wall of the cave near enough to the entrance to keep an eye on the prairie below but far enough in to avoid most of the splattering downpour.

"How about if you settle in up here by me and I'll tell you a story?"

"Oh yes! Thank you!"

Vid hurriedly situated himself next to the Elf and looked up at him with eager eyes. Legolas grinned down at his rapt audience. It had been awhile since he had told a bedtime story, but he still remembered some of the old favorites.

"A night such as this reminds me of Queen Beruthiel and her cats."

"Who?"

"Haven't heard that one? Well, then, let me see if I remember how it goes. Oh yes! Once upon a time, not too long past for Elves but long ages for the sons of men, there lived a most unusual queen..."

The Elf's gifted storytelling filled the air with invisible figures until at last they carried the delighted boy off in dreams of daring adventure of his own. Legolas smiled tenderly as he pulled the cloak a bit tighter around the little sleeper nestled against him. Suddenly, a hazy memory surfaced from the far reaches of his mind of snuggling up to his mother as she regaled him with a bedtime story. It had been years since he had thought of her! Her face had become somewhat blurred with time, but he would never forget the sparkle of her smile, the trill of her laugh, or the caress of her voice.

He had forgotten how much he missed her, and his breath caught as he fought back tears. If only she had been there, none of this would have happened! The sword that tore the life from his mother had also torn apart his family, had ultimately torn him from his home. Loneliness stabbed through him. He wished he could be confident of finding his way home through the dark like one of Beruthiel's cats, but try as he might, he simply could not penetrate the oppressive mists that swirled about completely obscuring the path. Legolas closed his aching eyes with a sigh. It always seemed so much simpler in stories.

* * *

_AN- I had intended to post this Thursday night but got caught up in an epic battle of LOTR Risk with my husband. It was a hard fought war, but my evil horde at last reigned victorious! *insert evil laugh* Unfortunately, this evening I probably set a speed record for losing in our rematch. :( Ah well. You win some, you lose some. Anyway... back to the written world of Middle Earth. There is an allusion in this chapter to an obscure bit of Tolkien lore. Kudos to anyone who knows which Tolkien character originally mentioned it. ^_^ Enjoy!_

_~ Mia_


	22. Nobles and Nobility

_AN- Congratulations to Infectious Laughter and CeresMaria for their knowledge of LOTR trivia. There's a bit more in this chapter, although it is __both more obscure and more important! Enjoy!_

_~Mia  
_

* * *

**Nobles and Nobility**

Legolas was not sure what awoke him, but his eyes suddenly snapped open to find the dim grayness of a drizzly morning. He hissed at his own weakness in succumbing to a deep sleep that had cost them his desired early start. Yet, as he eased Vid's head from his lap and stood with a deep stretch, he could not help but admit that the rest had done him some good. Despite the rigors of carrying Vid yesterday, his muscles felt less strained and more refreshed than they had for months, although he was still a far cry from peak condition. Years of abuse and malnutrition could not be undone so quickly.

As Legolas moved quietly about the cave preparing to break camp, his eyes glanced out across the monochrome prairie, and his skin went cold. Riders. The group of ten moved swiftly across the prairie towards them. Legolas could see no insignia, but he thought he recognized the lead rider as one of the kidnappers.

They were trapped. If Legolas and Vid tried to leave now they would be spotted for sure. If they stayed and the kidnappers decided to investigate the hills, as they most likely would, their hiding place would be almost immediately discovered. Still, the cave would make a better place of defense than the open prairie.

Legolas stared out over the dismal landscape, judging the amount of time before the riders were upon them- two hours, perhaps a bit more with the rain's hindrance. Abruptly he turned, retrieved two knives and a whetstone from one of the packs, and re-seated himself near the opening. A grim light flickered in his eyes as he set about sharpening the weapons. Discovery might be inevitable, but recapture was not. The kidnappers would not find their prey defenseless. Legolas slashed the knife through the air experimentally. No, they were not defenseless indeed.

###

Legolas woke Vid when the riders were about half an hour away. No use in rousing the boy early only for him to worry.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Legolas shook Vid gently and tousled his already wild hair. Vid moaned and tried to roll away, pulling the cloak tighter about him.

"Not so, little caterpillar."

Legolas redirected the roll, with the end result that Vid found himself sitting up and blinking sleepily around him.

"You must rise from your cocoon and rest another time. Breakfast is ready."

Vid remained mostly asleep until he had eaten half of the chunk of travel cake Legolas had handed him. Then the nourishment seemed to rouse his senses, and he looked up with a sigh at the Elf, also eating a bit of the bread.

"Idania - she's our cook - makes bread for breakfast sometimes, but it is _so_ much better than this stuff. And sleeping in a cave is not very nice either. The floor is all dirty and hard and cold! Beds are lots better."

Legolas could not help but smile at the boy's doleful disillusionment concerning the cave's novelty.

"I would have to agree."

A distant jangle alerted Legolas to the fact that the kidnappers were nearly upon them. It was time to prepare for the possibility of a coming battle. Legolas turned reluctantly to Vid, just swallowing the last of his bread.

"Vid, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Instantly, Vid froze and turned a frightened expression on the Elf. Something in his friend's voice alerted the boy to the imminent threat.

"Those men who took you are very close."

Vid jumped up in alarm and would have made a mad dash for the cave's opening, but Legolas caught him and pulled him close in a firm but gentle embrace.

"Whoa, there. They might find us, yes. But I am not going to let them take you away again. Understand?"

Legolas shifted Vid around until they were eye to eye.

"I will _not_ let them take you away again."

Fear still lurked within the boy's eyes, but the panic had begun to subside, and Vid nodded slowly in understanding.

"Now, I need you to do something very, _very_ important."

Legolas picked Vid up and carried him to the deepest point of the cave. Large rocks lay scattered about, and Legolas placed Vid carefully behind one.

"I need you to stay hidden back here. You are going to have to be very brave because there might be a lot of noise. But no matter what happens, you have to stay right here and be very, very quiet. Promise?"

Vid seemed so small and uncertain in the deep shadows of the dim cave, but he shook his head in agreement. Legolas smiled at him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, pulling the cloak up to further hide the boy's face at the same time.

"You are a very brave boy, Vid. I think you will be a great man someday."

Then, with a last glance back to ensure that Vid was hidden, Legolas strode to the cave's front. He swung the quiver onto his back and picked up the bow. The knives were stowed in the quiver as well, since he had no other way of transporting them. He fitted one of the three remaining arrows to the bow. If it came to a fight, every shot would have to count.

Legolas concealed himself as best he could in the shadows of the cave's mouth. The riders drew their horses to a halt practically at the foot of the hill. The leader, whom Legolas could clearly identify now as Rance, the leader of the thee kidnappers from the blacksmith's, motioned to two of the men.

"Check that cave. After losing their horse they couldn't have gotten much farther than this."

The men grumbled under their breath about the muddy conditions, but obediently dismounted and began their ascent. Legolas took a deep breath then let it out slowly, preparing himself for what was ahead. Then, he resolutely stepped out into the drenching rain with the arrow knocked and ready.

"Riders! Stand down or face the consequences!"

The two men froze in shock and brief pandemonium reigned among those still at the base. At last a shout from Rance quieted the group, and he wheeled his horse to face the challenger, coming forward several paces from the group. The two men on foot scrambled past him to their horses.

Rance's eyes narrowed as he studied the lean figure aiming an arrow directly at his chest, yet he showed no fear as he spoke.

"Hail, Elf! What is the meaning of your threat? We have not come to do you harm."

"Perhaps. But I would have you ride on all the same. There is no place for you here."

"We have not come for shelter, Elf. We search for a boy who was stolen from us. We greatly desire his return. He is blonde haired with blue eyes, about four years of age. Have you seen him by chance?"

"None have passed this way."

"Indeed? That is unfortunate. But perhaps you would be willing to lend your aid to our search. You would be well rewarded."

"Your search is none of my concern, human, and I have no desire to remain in your company. So be off! Continue your quest as you please. I will have no part in it."

"Ah, but I think you do have a part in it."

Legolas's heart sank at the sly gleam that had appeared in Rance's eyes.

"There was a man with the strangest tale in the village where the boy was taken from us. He claimed to have lost a slave - an _Elven_ slave. The very idea is absurd! Except, somehow it's not, is it?"

Legolas kept his expression entirely neutral, maintaining his stance.

"Take your riddles elsewhere, human. Our conversation is done."

"Give us the boy, slave, and we will forget we ever saw you, though your master did place a nice sum on your head."

"Our conversation is _done_."

Rance laughed out-loud.

"You may have the high ground, but you are far outnumbered. This is your last chance to hand over the boy before we take him by force. We will even provide you with the supplies you need to make your escape."

"This is _your_ last chance human. Ride on or risk your lives. I have no love of bloodshed, but I will do what I must to protect my own."

The lethal edge in the Elf's voice caused several of the humans to shift uncomfortably in their saddles. Yet the dire warning had no effect on Rance, and he merely leered up at this last obstacle between him and his prize. Then, he calmly whirled his horse about and rode back to the waiting men.

Legolas knew this would be his best chance to take out the kidnapper's leader and probably throw the band into disarray, but he could not bring himself to shoot the man in the back. It might be that he would have to take the lives of some of those who milled about below him, but he would do it in honorable battle or not at all.

It broke all at once. Two horsemen dashed to either side, clambering up the slopes to come at the Elf from above. Five others rode straight up at him - swords and spears ready for action. Legolas realized the remaining horsemen had produced a bow and was even now sighting him. Legolas's arrow sent him crashing to the ground with an agonized cry.

Legolas searched for Rance, hoping to find him among the fray, but the human was not among the forward assault. Time was up. Legolas sent two more of the horsemen reeling from their saddles, then leapt forward, catching hold of a spear that barely missed skewering him. Legolas used the leverage of his attack to fling the man from his saddle and commander his spear. Using the spear as a makeshift staff, Legolas blocked a sword thrust and whirled the butt about to hammer the next rider in the gut. A sharp whinny alerted him just in time of the coming attack from behind, and he whirled and threw the spear with all his might. It missed the hurtling rider, but distracted him long enough for Legolas to pull his knives from the quiver.

The Elf darted among the charging horses, knives a blur of activity. A horse screamed and reared, his rider grasping madly for his saddle that slid uselessly from his mount's back. Riderless horses thundered about, further churning the muddy slope.

Block, thrust, slash - Legolas was a whirlwind of destruction amidst the tumult, but he could not hold the combined assault off forever. A blade slipped through his defenses and left a bleeding gash along his left side. A spear butt slammed into the side of his head, sending him stumbling into a passing horse. Legolas hit the ground and slid several yards down the devastated hillside. He heaved himself up, knives at the ready. Rain made rivulets in the mixture of blood and muck that covered his body. The Elf was panting heavily and his limbs shook from exhaustion, but he faced the remaining kidnappers with icy determination.

It had become too dangerous for a mounted assault, and the four assailants had to tread carefully as they surrounded the lone Elf. Their attack came in unison, three swords and a spear. Legolas still held them off for several minutes, even managing to break through one of the swordsmen's defenses with a debilitating slice that sent the man stumbling back, sword arm hanging limply at his side.

Nevertheless, exhaustion, starvation, and blood-loss were invisible enemies leeching away his strength, and at last he could not keep up with the onslaught. He spun in time to receive only a minor graze across his back instead of the intended death blow, but he slipped in the mire in the process. He could not suppress an agonized cry as a sword cut deep into his thigh and threw him headlong into the mud, his knives spinning from his numb fingers. He looked up in time to see Rance's malicious smile as he swung his sword downward, directly at Legolas's chest.

But the blow went wild as Rance suddenly staggered back, an arrow blossoming in his gut. A new chorus of voices challenged the marauders, and tall men on sleek horses sprang forward into the fray. In moments any resistance and been quelled, and the new riders rounded the surviving kidnappers and their mounts to one side.

Legolas tried to rise, but only made it to his knees before blinding pain and nausea nearly caused him to pass out. As he took several ragged breaths and force himself to open his eyes, he found himself staring at a pair of intricately engraved knee-high riding boots now splattered with the gray mud of the hillside.

A firm voice, full of an authority used to being obeyed, rang out above him.

"Who are you? And why have you engaged these men in battle?"

Legolas pushed himself up until he was at least kneeling, and braced himself against his knees. The face he found as he finally looked up was fierce and proud, yet wisdom and justice held sway in the blue eyes - the blue eyes that looked strikingly familiar. Recognition shot through Legolas's hazy mind, and he met the man's gaze calmly.

"You are Vid's father."

Suddenly the eyes were alarmed and lethal, and the Elf found a sword pointed at his throat.

"Where is my son?"

"He is safe, my lord. In the cave yonder. You will find him at the back behind one of the rocks."

Vid's father was running and slipping up the hill before Legolas could even finish. As he watched the man wave aside all others and rush into the cave's mouth, a strange calm settled over Legolas. And as the childish squeal of "Father!" echoed forth, a warmth and an ache washed through him. Father and son reunited at last - as it was meant to be.

"If only it were always thus," was Legolas's last thought before sinking into oblivion.

###

Legolas woke to the sensation of tepid liquid being gently poured down his throat. As he weakly attempted to pull his head away from the hands supporting him, pain thundered through his head and rolled down his body, but it was his thigh that felt like it had been struck by lightning. He hissed, trying to force himself to relax and breathe.

The hands continued to cradle his head, but the medicated tea, as Legolas belatedly identified it, was taken away. As the pain settled, Legolas managed to open his eyes, and found that his wounds had been bandaged and most of the mud wiped away. As his eyes continued on he discovered that the individual tending him was not the only one present in the open-ended tent where he now lay. The hazy afternoon sunlight, indicating that the rains had ceased, revealed many of the raiders in various states of recovery further in, but a well-armed, blonde haired man stood as guard over them. Towering over Legolas himself, and the other blonde-haired man assisting him, was Vid's father.

"It seems I have you to thank for my son's safe return."

"My heart rejoices that he is safe."

The man's stoic expression softened momentarily, and Legolas briefly perceived his enormous relief at Vid's well being. Yet, as he crouched down to hold further conversation with the prostrate Elf, the previous guarded mask returned.

"I am Vidugelmi, King of the Northmen who live from the borders of Mirkwood to the River Celduin. We of the North are neighbors of the Elves, yet until this day I have never laid eyes on one. You are not what I expected."

Legolas was not sure whether to laugh or sob. He decided he didn't really have the energy for either.

"I would not consider myself a good representative of my… of the Elves."

Vidugelmi's eyes narrowed. "You add riddles instead of answering them Elf. I do not care to have such mystery. Let us at least begin with your name. Vidugavia tells me your name is Mellon, but you and I both know that is not a name."

Legolas sighed. "Perhaps not a name but a promise. I have had many names, my lord, some of which were far less… promising. My real name has not been uttered since before you were born, and… I am loathe to have it spoken in these lands."

A dark look settled over Vidugelmi's expression as he took a moment to ponder the enigma before him.

"Your desire to conceal your identity further confounds me. Why would an Elf have any reason for such reticence?"

It took Legolas a moment to even answer that himself. He had gone by so many names, why not take the opportunity to claim his identity? But an unreasonable fear wrapped its arms around his name and did its best to shield it from the man's prying eyes, and the reason dawned suddenly on him.

"It is all I have that is still mine."

"What?"

Vidugelmi leaned forward, not sure he had heard the faint whisper correctly. The ethereal blue eyes that reluctantly met his own spoke of a loss the man instinctively realized he would never understand.

"My name is my own, and it is all I have left. I beg your leniency if not your understanding. Call me by any name you wish, but mine I will not give."

A tense silence reigned in the tent, making every groan and cough of the wounded sound like a shattering of falling rock. At last Vidugelmi stood, looking up from the ground where his gaze had settled as he weighed the Elf's statements.

"Were it not for the fact that you rescued my son from the hand of my enemies, I would haul you back to my dungeons and hold you there until such time as you saw fit to untangle the web which you have woven around yourself. Yet, Vidugavia is my only child, heir to my throne, and key to my heart. With that key you have bought your freedom. We will tend to your wounds and provide what you need for your journey home, wherever that may be."

Vidugelmi nodded at the healer tending Legolas, then turned and strode from the tent, but another of the Northmen met him just outside.

"Lord Vidugelmi, a small group of ill-favored men have just ridden up to our camp. They are demanding to know if we have seen an Elf…" the man cast an uneasy look towards the tent and lowered his voice to a whisper, "an Elf bearing the mark of a slave."

Shock and belated understanding flashed across Vidugelmi's face, and he turned with an expression mingling confusion and pity to the wounded Elf.

"Branding slaves is not practiced among my people, and I did not recognize the mark for what it was."

Legolas made no reply. Despair, shame, and resignation battled within him. He was vaguely aware that Vidugelmi had returned to crouch once more at his side.

"Tell me it is not so, and I will send the man away. Tell me this man has no right to hold sway over you, that you were taken unlawfully, and we will lay our lives on the line in your defense."

Agony a thousand times worse than the wound in his leg lacerated his heart. What could he say? There were no words. Legolas could only look up at the man with tortured eyes. Vidugelmi bowed his head in mystified sorrow.

"So be it."

Vidugelmi stood and motioned for the healer to help Legolas stand as well. Every muscle screamed at him, and his right leg would barely tolerate his weight, but the maelstrom within drowned it all out. In a daze, he limped after the Northern king to the border of the rough camp. Uri and two other men Legolas vaguely recognized from the town stood by their horses arguing with the guards. Uri looked up and his eyes widened as he recognized Legolas.

"Him! That is him - he is mine, bought and paid for, though it was the most worthless purchase I ever made!"

Vidugelmi's guards stopped Uri's lunge at the Elf, and the man glared at the men holding him back.

"You have no right to keep me from what is mine!"

"And we shall not."

Vidugelmi's sharp voice, instantly stilled Uri's struggles. The Northman looked down disdainfully at the slovenly man.

"But I would not have you lay blame where it is not due. This Elf rescued my son from my enemies who intended to use him against me, and for that he has my eternal thanks."

Uri's whole demeanor changed, and after a moment of staring slack-jawed at the bedraggled Elf, a sinister smile spread across his face.

"Of course, of course. And I suppose you are prepared to reward such fine heroics, which would naturally come to me as his master."

Vidugelmi scowled at the refuse before him.

"I only give credit where it is due. I owe you nothing but the return of your servant, so take him and be gone. You are not welcome in my camp."

Uri's face turned scarlet with fury, and as Legolas came forward, Uri backhanded him ruthlessly to the ground. Legolas made no sound or sign of resistance from where he crouched in the drying mud as Uri screamed curses at him and kicked him in the ribs, reopening the healing gash.

"No! Bad man! No! Da, stop him!"

Vid abruptly appeared, running with tears streaming down his face and his fists clenched in outraged fury right at the shocked man standing over the downed Elf. Vidugelmi whirled and caught his son just in time to keep him from pummeling Uri.

"Calm yourself, my son."

"But, Da, he hurt Mellon! Mellon is my friend!"

"Vidugavia, you must listen to me. Your friend has to go with this man."

"Why?" Vid wailed.

"Because… it is the law, and however we might feel, we must always abide by the law."

Vid buried his head with a sob in his father's shoulder, and Vidugelmi placed a comforting hand around him. Uri's cockiness had returned, and he leered in triumph.

"Get up, _slave_. You've got a long walk ahead of you."

Uri moved to slap the Elf again as he struggled to stand but found his forearm caught in a vice-like grip.

"You will not do that again in my presence."

Uri quelled for a moment under Vidugelmi's icy stare, then jerked his arm free with a snarl.

"I'll do what I see fit to my property."

"Name your price."

"What?"

"What price for the Elf?"

Uri looked Vidugelmi up and down. "For you… there is no price. He is not for sale."

"He will not survive a return journey on foot."

"Well, that's my concern, now isn't it?"

The Northman glared at the insolent man, then motioned abruptly to one of his men. In moments a guard led forward one of the horses that had belonged to the kidnappers.

"Let the Elf ride, and you may have the horse and his tack."

For a moment, Uri looked like he might refuse that offer as well, but his greed was beginning to make headway on his fury. He gave a curt nod in assent and whirled to mount his own horse.

Legolas, who had kept his eyes averted during the entire exchange finally looked up as the guard handed him the reins to the horse.

"Thank you."

At the sound of the Elf's quiet voice, Vid looked up quickly.

"Mellon! Please don't go!"

Legolas did his best to smile at the forlorn boy.

"Do not worry, little friend. All will be well."

"But I'll miss you!"

"I'll miss you too. Take care!"

With that, Legolas swung himself up onto the horse, careful to shield the pain it caused him from the teary eyes watching his every move. Uri glared at him impatiently, but was apparently reluctant to invoke further trouble. As soon as the Elf was in the saddle, the group set out.

Legolas looked back and raised a hand in farewell, determined to ease Vid's anxiety as much as possible. As he turned to face his dismal future, tears slid freely down his face. Let the men see his weakness, he had no dignity left to lose.

###

Vidugelmi held his sobbing son and watched the small band disappear into the deepening shadows. Long into the night, after ensuring Vid had fallen into (albeit fitful) slumber, the Northman continued to stare to the South. As dawn's first rays slid over the statuesque watcher, he suddenly turned and strode to his tent - a fire blazing in his gaze.


	23. A Prince's Ransom

**A Prince's Ransom**

Vidugelmi stared down at the collection of ramshackle huts huddled haphazardly about in the barren waste that surrounded the mine's main shaft. Wrothgar, his lieutenant, nudged his stallion forward till they were abreast.

"You are still committed to your plan?"

"It is what must be done."

Wrothgar only dipped his head acknowledging his liege's authority. Vidugelmi rode on, allowing his snow white charger Welfel to pick his own way down the steep slope. Wrothgar followed after, along with three other Northmen. While he may not have approved of Vidugelmi's bizarrely extravagant stratagem, he would follow his liegelord on whatever quest he saw fit to undertake. Vidugelmi had brought unity and order to most of the fractured Northmen and single-handedly saved them from being scattered to the four winds. To his people, he was king, and they obeyed with the joy of serving a wise and just ruler. If he felt this mad venture was of such vital importance, then so be it.

###

Uri jerked from his slumped stupor on the filthy table as the door to his shack slammed against the wall. At first his eyes could only make out a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway with a gleaming band of gold encircling his head, then the man stepped forward into the room, followed by two others, and Uri's bloodshot eyes narrowed in recognition.

"Get out of my house, Northman. A week's time is not sufficient to change my mind, no, not a thousand years would! The Elf is mine, and you cannot have him!"

Vidugelmi strode forward allowing his full presence to dwarf the seated drunk before him.

"I do not want the Elf. I want it _all_."

At a wave from their leader, the two accompanying men each set the small chest he was carrying on the table with a heavy clunk. Vidugelmi opened the lids simultaneously, revealing the golden contents.

"Five hundred gold pieces - a prince's ransom - and more than you would ever see in a lifetime from this forsaken mine. Get on your horse and ride away, never to show yourself in my realm again, and these will accompany you."

Uri just stared at the glistening treasure before him. His voice came out as a hoarse croak.

"It is a trick. You will hunt me down and murder me once I am gone."

Vidugelmi shut the lids with a snap, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.

"You only question my honor because you have none of your own, but _I_ am a man of my word. Sign all you possess over to me, and the gold is yours."

Wrothgar slid a formal bill of sale across the table to the still stupefied man. For a moment Uri looked like he still might refuse, then he snatched the pen and placed his mark. As he stood, pulling the chests toward himself, he chuckled malevolently.

"You've wasted your money, Northman. The mine, as you said yourself, is practically worthless, and the Elf is dead. Enjoy your rocks!"

Uri staggered out the door under the weight of the laden chests, cackling wildly. Wrothgar whirled to his liege, alarm evident in his eyes.

"My lord, if what he says is true…!"

Vidugelmi's expression was grim but set.

"Then so be it, but I will not believe until I see with my own eyes. Find him."

The dust from Uri's horse could still be seen filtering down in the shafts of morning light as Vidugelmi went out to address the bewildered and beleaguered slaves who hesitantly assembled before their unexpected new master.

Vidugelmi's stern eyes softened with compassion as he took in the haggard state of the men who stared at him with hollow eyes. Hope was something long overdue in this wretched place.

"As of this moment, I present each of you with your freedom. Furthermore, I will provide each of you with food, fresh clothing, and any medical aid you might need. After that, you are free to choose your own path."

Shock rippled through the small huddle. One man even collapsed to the ground sobbing. A snarled shout interrupted the cries of joy, however, as Terem pushed his way forward.

"What do you think you are doing? Where's Uri?"

"It appears your former employer decided not to share any of his recently acquired wealth with you. As for me, your services are no longer required or desired here. Collect your things and get off my property."

Noting the overseer's defiant glare, Vidugelmi continued, "Leave under your own power, or by that of my men, it matters not to me, but woe to you if you ever set foot on this land again!"

The sheer thunder of authority in the chieftain's voice quelled Terem's protests, and he scurried to comply. Vidugelmi dismissed the cowardly overseer without another thought. The man's strength only lay in the misery of others. Faced with a true warrior, he was utterly overrun.

Turning back to the newly freed slaves, who were still reeling with the sudden reversal of their fortunes, Vidugelmi addressed them with a kindness just as powerful as his justice had been severe a moment before.

"You are free and the path you choose is entirely your own. Yet I know many of you may no longer have a home to which you may return. If you desire, you may continue to work here at the mine. I require sixty percent of the profits for the next ten years. After that, the mine will be yours."

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Dugan stepped forward.

"I got nobody and no place to go to. I will take your offer and thank you for it. It'll be a lot different hauling them rocks for my own benefit instead of benefitting a drunken glutton."

All but two of the other freedmen also expressed their interest in staying on at the mines, and Vidugelmi nodded his approval.

"Wrothgar, see to their needs and select one of our own to stay here for a few months to help in the transition."

Wrothgar bowed and turned to go, but Vidugelmi lowered his voice and added, "Take special interest in the man who stepped forward. He may have the makings of a good foreman."

"Understood, sir."

As the group moved away to the kitchens, which had never been used for such fare as was about to be prepared, Vidugelmi's gaze clouded. There was still no sign of the Elf, and he was beginning to fear that Uri's words were indeed true. Looking up, he noticed the man who had spoken up still standing before him.

"You have further words…?"

"Dugan."

"Dugan, what have you to say? "

"Have you come for the Elf?"

"What do you know of him? Does he live?"

"Little I know, except that none of us would be here to experience the joy of freedom if he had not intervened on our behalf. He is a noble creature, despite all that he has suffered. As for his whereabouts… I can take you to where he is being held, but I do not know if he lives. Uri's wrath has been beyond bounds since he returned, and the Elf has taken the brunt of it. He was alive, but in serious condition the last time I managed to see him nearly two days ago."

Dugan led Vidugelmi through the cluttered huts till at last they arrived at a small, dilapidated shed. A rusty lock secured the latch, but since the door itself was barely attached at the hinges, it seemed a ridiculous measure. Dugan produced a broken pick from a pile of junk heaped next to the shed and struck the lock from the door in one blow. As they wrenched the door back, both Dugan and the guard who had followed Vidugelmi gasped. Dugan turned away, looking like he was going to be sick.

"I told him. I _told_ him he wasn't doing himself any favors."

Vidugelmi kept his face calm, ruthlessly pushing aside his horror at the sheer brutality evidenced before him. It did not seem possible that any body so badly beaten could possibly still breathe, but he had to make sure. Kneeling down next to the crumpled heap, he held his hand near the Elf's mouth. At first, he felt nothing, then the slightest warmth fluttered against his hand and he nearly shot backwards.

"Fetch Hoden quickly! I do not know how, but the Elf still breathes. Dugan, water and any clean rags you can find, a blanket as well. Go!"

The men rushed away to do his bidding, and Vidugelmi turned back to the broken, skeletal form before him.

"Forgive my delay, Elf, it was necessary to obtain the purchase price, and I admit I underestimated the cruelty of your former master."

For a long moment Vidugelmi contemplated the emaciated body entirely covered by dark bruises and blood encrusted wounds. The man shook his head.

"You must have a strong spirit indeed to cling to life when it has beaten you down so, yet why then are you here at all?"

The question had haunted Vidugelmi ever since he had watched the Elf ride meekly along after the man who was so obviously his inferior. His musings were interrupted by the arrival of the his healer, whom Vidugelmi thanked the Valar he had had the foresight to bring, and the fight to save the Elf's life began.

###

Consciousness crept upon him unawares, and Legolas could not have pointed to the exact moment when he realized that the figures moving about him were no longer the hallucinations of dark dreams. It simply occurred to him at one point as he reflexively swallowed the savory liquid held to his lips that he was getting very tired of broth, and that part of the ache in his belly was a craving for more solid food.

His bleary eyes latched on to the grey-eyed face above him, and Legolas realized he recognized it, had heard voices mentioning the name that belonged to it. The man's name was…

"Hoden?"

The healer nearly dropped the bowl at the croaking rasp.

"You are awake? You know me?"

"Awake, yes. Though how I know you, I am not sure."

Hoden smiled kindly down at the Elf.

"You and I have been nigh constant companions this last fortnight. Apparently I made an impression."

Legolas's eyes widened and he struggled to sit up, though Hoden gently pressed him back.

"A _fortnight_? I have been unconscious for two _weeks_?"

Hoden's face was grave as he replied, "Aye, and more than once we thought you would never be waking again on this side of the veil."

Legolas blinked, trying to remember. A murky haze clouded his memory, and it took several moments before the scattered images suddenly solidified and rushed over him - collapsing under the strain of hauling coal, being dragged to the shed, Uri's insane fury, the blows that had come until he could feel no more. Then there was only a darkness full of fire. Legolas groaned as his body reminded him that the fire had not all gone out.

Hoden hurried to a nearby table and poured a draught which he brought back and held to Legolas's lips.

"I have been afraid to give you much to ease your pain since you walked such a fine line with death, but I will chance a bit more now that you are conscious."

Legolas drank gratefully and nearly wept when the numbing relief began to quickly take effect. Then it suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea where he was or why he was being tended. Surely Uri would never take thought for his well-being, although the wooden structure they were in did look like one of the mine's bunk houses except that it had been cleaned and rearranged. It was a puzzle his tired mind could not put together.

"Where am I?"

"Your condition was too serious for us to move you, so we are still at that wretched mine."

Legolas could not help the alarm that flashed through him. Uri must have something truly sinister planned to go through such trouble, and the Elf regarded Hoden with new suspicion.

"You are working for Uri then."

Hoden's indignation flared, "Certainly not! I would not work for that pig if he begged me on both knees! Besides, he is long gone. May he never return from whatever hole he decides to crawl into!"

Medication and weakness from his injuries would simply not allow Legolas to process the full implications of the man's statements. Uri gone? Then who was in charge - Terem? And where were the other slaves? Nothing made sense. Legolas closed his eyes trying desperately to grab hold of his shifting reality.

"Uri is not welcome here because he no longer owns this mine or anything else associated with it."

Legolas's eyes flew open and peered up at the owner of the new voice. Shock flooded through him.

"You!"

Vidugelmi smiled at the Elf's wide-eyed amazement. Hoden stood up quickly, bowing to his king and offering him the chair next to the Elf's bed. Vidugelmi acknowledge Hoden's gesture and seated himself, giving the Elf his undivided attention. A strange look that Vidugelmi almost would have identified with guilt flitted briefly across the being's face.

"You came here for me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The Elf's perplexed gaze bore into Vidugelmi's own. There was gratitude there, yes, but also fear. Vidugelmi shook his head. The Elf expected nothing but the tyranny of a new master. Sold again to new hands, he longed to know what those hands might hold. The Northman simply could not fathom how such a being had come to this.

"If you were given your freedom and could ride to any destination you desired, where would you go?"

Legolas could not breathe, could not think. Shock, elation, and terror raced through him. What was the man's plan? Was he taunting him, testing him? He wished he could even hope for freedom, but it honestly scared him to death. Legolas could not bring himself to meet Vidugelmi's piercing gaze as he admitted the shameful truth.

"I do not know, for there is no place for me among my kindred."

"Why? How does an Elf make himself an outcast from his own people? Was it murder?"

"No! No. For crimes against my… king and the betrayal of my family."

"Harsh is the punishment of the Elves then."

The Elf made no reply, continuing to avoid Vidugelmi's stare. The Northman realized there was more to the story, but he had also come to a deeper conclusion.

"You carry your chains with you; you cling to them. It is not men who keep you captive, it is your own guilt."

A shudder racked the Elf's body, and Vidugelmi realized that he was aware of this, yet he chose to accept it rather than fight it. The Northman stood, sorrow and disappointment in his eyes.

"I hope someday you are able to break the chains that bind your soul, but for now, you will have a reprieve from making your decision. Your ransom has cost me the earnings of half my life, wealth that should have belonged to my son. Since his inheritance is thusly diminished, you will be his inheritance instead. Slavery is little practiced among my people, but I will take you as my vassal since I have bought your life so dearly. I believe even with your inner struggles, you will serve my son well, protecting him and guiding him long after I am gone. You are my pearl of great price for which I have beggared my estate. I hope I have not placed my faith amiss."

Legolas finally met Vidugelmi's gaze, his spirit chaffing under the rebuke and consequent question of his character.

"Though you did not hold sway over me, I would gladly serve your house. You are an honorable man and a wise king. Those under your rule must count themselves among the blessed."

Vidugelmi smiled wryly. "Then consider yourself blessed, Elf, and to the blessing of my rule I will add the blessing of a name, since I have no desire to force from you your own. Halvor, I name you - the rock and protector of my house. May you own it with honor."

Legolas bowed his head in acceptance, both of the name and Vidugelmi's subtle reproof in his last statement. By all rights he should be disappointed to find himself a slave still, but he could not entirely claim to be so. He had meant what he said about serving Vidugelmi's house gladly. He had never met such a man before, and he doubted he ever would again, with the possible exception of his descendants. He was a king among men whether others hailed him as such or not.

###

It was another week before Legolas was well enough to make the journey to Vidugelmi's realm. Even then, they traveled more slowly than they would have otherwise to avoid overtaxing the Elf's slowly recovering body. But at last, after more than a week on the road, the group rode over a slight rise to look down on the collected dwellings of the King of the Northmen.

A tall wooden barricade, spiked at the top, surrounded several long, low buildings and a large dirt courtyard. The main structure, more ornate though still not much taller than the rest, had a central building that looked like it must contain a great hall with smaller wings spreading out from each side. While simple, with an emphasis on functionality and sturdiness, the buildings were not without ornate carvings that flowed around the trim and covered the doors. They spoke of a rugged people, surviving in a wild realm while maintaining dignity and grace.

Vidugelmi rode up next to Legolas, his face aglow with the sight of home.

"Welcome to Vegard, Halvor, a sanctuary to all who seek honest refuge within her noble gates.

Legolas surveyed the buildings and the rolling lands that surrounded them. As he inspected his new place of residence, he absentmindedly touched the thin gold collar he now wore. The sun glinted off the polished metal which bore the inscription, "Halvor - vassal to the house of Vidugelmi." Still a slave, but perhaps Vegard would prove a sanctuary for him as well in spite of that.

As they rode through the gates, a regal woman in a flowing brown dress appeared at the top of the steps leading to the main house. Her smile captured the sun and gave it all to Vidugelmi.

"Welcome home, my lord."

Vidugelmi was by her side before the rest had even dismounted.

"It is good to be home, my love."

Their tender embrace was interrupted by a hurtling flash of green that launched himself into Vidugelmi's arms.

"Da! I thought you would never come!"

Vidugelmi laughed, the first time he had done so unreservedly since that horrible day nearly six weeks ago when they had discovered Vidugavia's abduction.

"Vid, you are getting to be a big boy for your father's arms, but I am glad to have you back in them!"

"Where were you, Da? Mother wouldn't say, and I just wondered and wondered every day!"

"I had to do something very important, and I wasn't able to leave as soon as I had planned. But I have brought you something back that I think will please you very much."

"What! What!"

Vidugelmi turned so that Vid could see the group standing behind him. The Elf stood to one side, holding on to his horse as his still troublesome right leg adjusted to bearing his weight again, but there was only a mischievous grin in his eyes as he looked into the face of the open-mouthed boy.

"Hello, little friend. I told you all would be well, and it is, thanks to your father."

Vid looked at his father with even more wide-eyed wonder then threw himself at his lost friend.

"Mellon! You're here!"

"Gently, my son, gently!" cautioned his mother, noting the Elf's still healing injuries. Vid tempered his headlong rush, but still threw his arms around the Elf's neck as he bent down to receive the child.

"It is good to see you, Vid."

"Wow! Did Da rescue you from that bad guy? What's wrong with your leg? Why are you wearing that gold thing? Are you going to stay here? Do you want to see my room?"

Legolas laughed, choosing to concentrate on Vid's enthusiastic joy rather than the sting some of his questions caused.

"One question at a time, my friend. Your father did rescue me. I hurt my leg, but I think it will be just fine in time. This," Legolas motioned to the collar, "shows that I work for your father now. So I will be staying here for a long time, and you can show me whatever you want."

"You get to stay here and work for Da?"

"Yes, and keep an eye on you too, I think!"

Vid laughed, "This is going to be so much fun!"

"One more thing, Vid. I wanted to tell you that I have another name now."

"Really, why?"

"Well, it was a… gift from your father. My new name is Halvor. What do you think?"

Vid squinted up at the Elf, mentally trying the name on for size. At last, he gave a decided nod.

"Yep, it's good. Well, come on then, Halvor. I've got lots and lots to show you!"

Vid grabbed Legolas's hand (the one not in a sling) and pulled him forward. Legolas sought out Vidugelmi, silently requesting permission to follow. At the Northman's quiet nod, the Elf allowed himself to be led away by the gaily chattering child. When he focused on Vid's jubilant face, he almost forgot about the golden weight around his neck. Almost.

* * *

_AN - Huzzah for 200 reviews! Thank you so much to all who have let me know your thoughts, comments, encouragements, and - yes- even your frustrations! ^_^ We have been on a long journey together, and I greatly appreciate all your support along the way. It has truly made a tremendous difference. _

_As we near our journey's end, many clues have been revealed - particularly in the last two chapters. I still have a plot twist or two up my sleeve, but those with an eye for research might piece together some of where I am headed. I'll give one final hint - one of the more recent characters is not an original but borrowed in good faith from Tolkien. ^_^_


	24. Balance

**Balance**

"Ha!"

Vid gleefully plunked down his polished birch disk, surrounding and capturing five of Legolas's. Legolas allowed the ten-year-old to relish his moment of triumph as he collected the five pieces before revealing his next move.

"You may have won the battle, Vid, but I'm afraid you have lost the war."

The Elf placed his own ebony disk and suddenly Vid realized they made a dark rim around his entire central section of lighter pieces. After a moment of staring at the board in shock, he gave a groan of frustration and buried his head in his arm on the table. However, his muffled words still made their way out past his sleeve.

"This game is impossible!"

"Nay, my young pupil, it simply takes a bit more patience, balance, and experience than you have just yet. You forget, young one, that I have a few more decades of practice behind me, and to be quite fair, you are much better than I was at your age. In time, I think you will make a fine _Os_ player."

"And perhaps learn some valuable lessons while you are at it."

Legolas stood and bowed to the smiling Vidugelmi who was inspecting the simple board and pieces with intrigue. Vid jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of his father. He nodded respectfully but rested his chin in his hand glumly as he inspected his catastrophic defeat.

"I just don't understand. I was doing so well, then… wham!"

"Learning balance, my son, is one of the most needed assets of a great leader. Learn that lesson well, for it will protect you from many harms." With a twinkle in his eye, Vidugelmi then directed his attention to the Elf. "I am intrigued by this game you made for Vid, Halvor. Perhaps you and I could match our wits sometime?"

Legolas bowed again, "It would be an honor, my lord."

"Halvor! There you are. I need you a moment, please."

Vid stood as his mother joined their group, and the three males respectfully acknowledged the presence of the lady of the house. A stray lock of auburn hair that flitted unchecked about the slightly concerned hazel eyes revealed the lady's distress, but she paused her brisk pace, brown skirts swishing about her ankles, and graced the group with her usual warm smile.

"Please pardon my interruption, dear. In my haste I did not notice you were in conversation."

"That is quite alright; we were just finishing. Halvor has promised me a match at his most fascinating game, but now is not the time anyway."

"How may I be of service, Lady Mavina?"

Mavina smiled again and gently squeezed the Elf's arm.

"What did we ever do without you, Halvor? I always know I can count on your willing strength. I need you to gather as many of the butternut squash from the patch as you can, get help if you need it, and bring them to the kitchen right away. Idania also needs some more of those wild onions you found. That poor girl who just started is all elbows, and the whole of tonight's stew is currently all over the kitchen floor."

Legolas winced in sympathy for the poor maid. At least here in the gracious halls of Vegard all the girl would get for her clumsiness was a thorough tongue lashing from Idania and probably some extra duties in the kitchen. Still, the fiery cook was no force to trifle with. He excused himself with a bow from his lord and lady and turned to carry out Mavina's bidding.

"I'll come too! I can help!"

Vid started to dash after the Elf, but Mavina called him back.

"Vid, while I appreciate your desire to help, I think your own duties, not to mention scrubbing away your second skin of dirt, will take you the better part of the time before dinner." Mavina inspected the grime under the boy's nails and ground into the elbows and knees of his tunic and trousers. "What were you doing in your lessons today, my son? Learning how to wallow like a hog?"

Vid opened his mouth to reply, but Vidugelmi cut him off.

"I think that was a rhetorical question, Vid. We will hear about your day at dinner. You had best hurry so that you will be there for the seating."

Vid sighed, but as he scooped the pieces into their respective pouches and dashed away with them and the board under his arm, a lilting tune found its way onto his whistling lips, revealing that he had learned more than just sword techniques and strategy games from his Elven mentor.

The evening was a rush of activity for Legolas as he aided the kitchen staff with their last-minute rescue of the evening meal - fetching ingredients, washing, peeling, and slicing. Some of the autumn stew's ingredients might not have been as tender as was typical from Idania's kitchens, but it was edible and on time for the residents of Vegard to sit at table at the normal hour.

After seeing to the needs of the royal family, as was his custom, Legolas retreated to the kitchens for his own meal, which Idania always made sure stayed warm for him. The savory stew, complimented perfectly by the tangy rye bread which fortunately had _not_ found its way to the floor, warmed and rejuvenated him before the after-dinner bustle.

Due to his unexpected reassignment to the kitchens, it was later than normal when Legolas finished making his rounds of the premises. Many had already retired to their rooms for those precious quiet moments before the lamps were blown out and sleep descended. The Elf's keen ears could still hear a few muffled voices, punctuated by the occasional quiet laugh, from about the house as he slipped into his own small room just down the hall from those of the royal family.

The faint glow of his lamp was still ample light to reveal the room's few furnishings: a wooden bed complete with straw bedding and woolen blankets, a plain table and stool that served as a desk, and a few pegs on the wall that held his change of clothes. Small and cramped though it was, Legolas reveled in the luxury of having his own quarters. Best of all, a small window opened out on the courtyard, and only in the coldest weather could the shutter be found closed.

Legolas set the lamp down on the desk and quickly stripped, carefully shaking as much dust out of his tunic as he could before hanging it on its respective peg. He then blew out the lamp and stretched out on his bed where he could gaze out at the stars. His muscles slowly relaxed and his mind wound down after the business of the day. Before long he found himself humming along with the quiet strains of the night.

He had nearly surrendered to his waking dreams when a sudden realization sat him bolt upright. Today was his begetting day. The fact that he had nearly forgotten was not what disturbed his sleep - many had slipped by unheeded. No, it was what this particular year signified that banished all rest from his thoughts. Today, as he turned one hundred and sixty, he also marked his eightieth year as a slave. Today the balance tipped, and each moment added to the time he had been a slave longer than he had been free.

A gamut of emotion exploded within him. So many thoughts and feelings whipped through him he could not grasp hold of any single one. He sprang to his feet, and slipping out into the hall, practically ran for the outdoors. As he stole out the side door the autumn chill prickled against his bare chest, and Legolas welcomed it. Knowing his actions would be considered sheer madness by any of the watchmen, Legolas kept to the shadows as he raced around the perimeter of the walls, letting his legs work out the feelings his mind could not.

After at least twenty minutes, he slowed to a walk and finally stopped and slid to the ground with his back resting against the side wall of the stables. The musky, pungent smell of horses, hay, and manure wafted around him as did the occasional nicker or thud of a hoof. Legolas drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them with his chin resting on his knees. His fingers absently picked at the rawhide cords he used to bind the loose woolen trousers to his calves in the manner of the Northmen.

What a strange road he had traveled these last eighty years! Saleros had shattered him; Benoni had restored him. Numair and Jasik had tormented him; Mina, Diyan, and Leila had loved him. The Easterlings had used him and nearly driven him insane; a child had believed in him and brought him back. Uri had done his best to kill him; and at last Vidugelmi had given him a new life.

One hand reached up to touch the golden collar around his neck, tracing the indentations of the engraving. In the last five years, he had come to have a sense of camaraderie and peace that, in truth, he had not felt since his mother's death. Vassal - _slave_ - though he was, he had not once been mistreated or demeaned since he first walked through the gates of Vegard. His admiration and respect for Vidugelmi had only increased with time. He owed the man his very life, and he loved Vidugavia like a son. No, not like a son - like a brother. Legolas's head snapped up as the truth dawned on him. Vid was his chance to be the brother he desperately wished he would have been.

Legolas's eyes sought out the stars he loved so much, and he absently wondered if any of his family were gazing at those same stars, perhaps even thinking about him. A single tear slid from his eye. If only he could believe that their thoughts of him were fond, longing for his return. He had no hope of such a thing.

After spending every one of his adult years among men as a slave, he doubted he would even fit in among his kindred if he did return. His desire for his homeland was more a hollow ache now, like the memory of a long ago wound, rather than the desperate agony it had been at first.

Legolas let his eyes roam, outlining the familiar shapes of the simple wooden buildings that housed a king's court. So different from the imposing finery of his father's halls! Yet, perhaps it was better to bear the weight of a golden collar here than that of a golden crown there. Legolas found himself relieved that he would never have to rule; he would have been terrible at it. He did miss the unparalleled majesty and music of the ancient trees though. And, oh! how he wished, terrifying as it was enticing, that he could make things right with his brothers - with his father! He bowed his head and let his grief and regret come to the forefront. It took his breath away, as it always did when he allowed himself to think of the broken life he had left behind.

Then, with a shaky breath, he let them slip away into the cool night breeze, the residue sinking back to its place deep inside him. He stood slowly and laid one hand on the rough wood of the wall beside him. He had a new home, a new life, a new king, and... a new family. He did not resent his life here at Vegard. No, he loved it - treasured it, and torturous as the path to these halls had been, he could not bring himself to disdain the position in which he found himself. This was the part Iluvatar had sung for him, and as he well knew - as he had clung to time and again in the darkest hours - ever the Song continued. And in the noble halls of Vegard, what a glorious sound it was!


	25. To Everything There is a Season

**To Everything There is a Season**

"This is so _boring_. Father is being completely unfair!"

Flinging wide his gangling, thirteen year old limbs in vexation, Vid flopped down on his back in the grass next to the seated Elf. Legolas regarded the disconsolate youth sprawled next to him from the corner of his eye without pausing the airy melody he was composing on his flute. The gentle strains mixed with the whispers of the spring breeze through the grass and the occasional nicker of the herd of nursing brood mares below. After a moment, Vid rolled onto his stomach and regarded his tutor and protector with injured dignity.

"I don't see why you can't at least teach me some sword tricks while we're stuck out here."

Legolas merely quirked an eyebrow and continued on with his playing. Vid glared at him for several moments before finally rolling back over and flinging his arm over his face with a howl of frustration that startled several of the foals into bolting a few paces before pricking their ears in his direction.

Legolas allowed Vid to stew a few moments more before bringing his tune to a close and resting the simple wooden flute he had made himself against his crossed legs. Even then, the Elf remained silent, savoring the husky scent of the grazing horses, the cool nip of the breeze that tugged against his cloak, and the prickle of the coarse grass through his woolen trousers. When he sensed Vid's anger had dulled into petulant self-pity, Legolas finally spoke.

"You often used to beg me to take you to see the foals gamboling alongside their mothers, and you would watch them with rapt attention for hours on end."

It was Vid's turn to remain silent for a time, but Legolas did not mind. It was not yet noon, and they would not return to Vegard until dusk. He doubted Vid would fail to confide in him before the sun set. The Elf was not disappointed in his conjectures. Before long, Vid reluctantly sat up and rested his chin on his drawn-up knees as he looked out over the grazing herd. He couldn't help but let slip a short laugh as he caught sight of one of the youngest colts lose balance and nearly fall over after lashing his spindly front legs in mock challenge at another encroaching foal. But Vid's mirth was only momentary, and his despondency returned almost immediately.

At last he spoke with a sigh, "I guess it's not so bad, but it's not as much fun when I _have_ to do it as when it's my own choice."

"An interesting perception. Why do you think that is so?"

"Because I'm in trouble, and it's not supposed to be fun." Vid grumbled his reply into his knees, but Legolas still heard him.

Legolas smiled kindly at the boy. "I do not think your father's intent is so much on making you suffer as on making you wiser. Whether the process is enjoyable or not is entirely up to you."

Vid only grunted skeptically in response. Legolas was silent for a time, his eyes tracing the contours of the rolling prairie dotted here and there with a cluster of trees similar to the one under which they reclined.

"Vidugavia, what do you see?"

The boy barely raised his head for a brief glance, then plopped it back down on his knees.

"A bunch of mares and grass and sky."

"Yes, but what do you _see_?"

Vid raised his head and stared at the Elf with annoyed perplexity. "Halvor, you are talking in riddles again."

Legolas laughed and turned back to studying the landscape.

"Do you know what I see? I see a clear sky that promises good weather till the morrow. I see a land unfolding itself after the winter snows. I see gangling colts enjoying their mothers with the simple pleasure of their kind. But I also see the well groomed manes and tails of the mares that speak of hands that have loved them. I see the powerful haunches of the colts and know that one day they will carry their riders straight and true no matter what danger lies ahead. I see order and design and loving attention to detail."

Vid's own gaze now roved over the landscape, his eyes squinting slightly as he searched for the details his mentor described. Legolas continued.

"I see a past and a future. And, most importantly, I see a present. I see defenseless young in need of a protector. I see an opportunity to bask in the sun of a spring day with a friend. I see an opportunity for me to show my character despite whether any one else sees or not."

Legolas had turned his penetrating gaze on Vid, and the boy squirmed a moment under the Elf's scrutiny before relenting with a sigh. Vid finally shook his head with a quirked smile.

"Your lectures are so much harder to see coming than Da's that I end up listening before I know better."

Legolas smiled back and gave the boy a gentle punch on the shoulder.

"Your father is a great man, Vid. He is one who has learned to see, really see, which is one of the most necessary traits of leadership. Learning to see, to pay attention to detail, will take you far as you follow in your father's footsteps. I know you have been so caught up in your new weapons studies that you have neglected some of your other duties. Being able to defend yourself, to defend your people, is a vital part of a king's role, but unless a king leads wisely, judges fairly, and deals honestly with all who come before him, he will not have to worry about outside threats for his kingdom will be torn apart from the inside out."

Vid's head hung in shame, and he picked at a wet patch of grass, avoiding looking at the Elf.

"I guess I _have_ been distracted lately."

Legolas laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"All make mistakes, Vid. The point is to get back up and keep trying. Then our failures become stepping stone."

Vid quirked an eye at Legolas.

"You? Make a mistake! Ha!"

A shadow passed over Legolas's eyes, but he kept his tone light.

"Believe me; it's true."

Vid suddenly grinned mischievously.

"So then, I _do _have a chance at some day beating you at _Os_?"

"You may try, my impudent pupil, you may try," intoned Legolas with mock gravity.

Then the two burst into wide grins that developed into full blown laughter. The last vestiges of gloom were swept away, and the bright sun danced around two companions who wiled away the afternoon with comfortable camaraderie.

###

Legolas stopped just shy of Welfala's stall, unsure whether to make his presence known or not. He could hear Vid's gasping sobs, though he could not yet see the seventeen-year-old's brawny form. The young man's beloved stallion had his head down and seemed to be nuzzling his master as he mourned at his feet.

Legolas slumped to the ground wearily, letting his head rest against the smooth pine of the stall. Dark shadows ringed his eyes, both from lack of sleep and from sorrow. He had not slept at all in the last week as he worked feverishly to save the sweet Lady Mavina. Being the only one that could tend her with immunity, he had barely left her side for the whole of her acute illness. Vidugelmi would not be kept out either, though Legolas had feared for his life. When it had become apparent that the queen would not rise from her sick bed, Vidugavia had been allowed in as well. Just an hour ago, Legolas had slipped out to give the family privacy for their last moments together. Vidugelmi had been cradling Mavina against his chest while Vidugavia knelt by his mother's side clasping her hand in both of his own.

All of Vegard was hushed and somber. Gray clouds hung low, threatening another blast of snow to add to what already covered the ground. Several had died in the plague that had blown in on the winter wind, both among the inhabitants of Vegard itself and in the homes of the Northmen scattered across the prairie. Now their beloved queen was among the dead.

The devastating loss recalled all too keenly for the Elf the nightmarish time that had surrounded his own mother's death. He whispered a lament to the deepening shadows for the gracious queens who had brought so much joy to their realms in life and left such despair in the gaping vacuum they left behind.

Vid's initial maelstrom had subsided somewhat, though shaky, breathless moans still punctuated the gloomy twilight. Remembering how terribly alone he had felt at first, Legolas decided to at least offer his solace. Easing his weary body upright, he unlatched the stall and quietly stepped inside.

Welfala was now kneeling on the ground, and Vid had his arms clasped about the horse's neck with his tear-stained face buried in the bay's jet black mane. Both horse and boy looked up at the Elf as he entered, and suddenly Legolas felt lost and unsure of what to say. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, trying to work past the lump of emotion that threatened to entirely constrict his throat. Consequently, he did not see the fist that slammed into his jaw and sent him crashing against the feed box along the side wall.

"Why didn't you save her?"

Wiping away the blood from his split lips on the back of his hand, Legolas looked up in shock at the form looming over him. Vidugavia's fists were clenched at his side, ready to strike again as his icy blue eyes snapped with fury and loss.

"You are supposed to be able to do everything! You're supposed to protect this family. Why didn't you protect her!"

This time Legolas saw the punch and deflected the wild swing with ease, stepping to the side. Vid moved after him and the two warily circled each other, with Welfala standing in the corner tossing his head in agitation.

"I cannot change what Iluvatar has sung, Vid."

"Don't lecture me! I don't need your stupid talk about some great being I can't even see! What kind of god takes a woman like her away?" Vid's voice broke, "What kind of god takes my _mother_?"

Legolas stopped, dropping his defensive posture.

"He took my mother too."

The Elf's voice was quiet, but the deep sorrow of his confession halted Vid as if the words were a punch to his gut. The boy's fists lowered though they did not entirely unclench.

"Then why would you ever worship a god like that?"

Legolas was silent for nearly a minute, wrestling with how to put into words the complicated thoughts and feelings he had on so raw a question. Any technical argument seemed hollow in the face of such pain, and at last he could only answer from his heart.

"Because I believe this is not the whole story."

Vid just stared at the Elf, his confused, desperate eyes demanding further explanation. Legolas again searched for the right words, and when at last he spoke it was haltingly.

"I know you may not hear it… but the very earth and sky sing of something beyond this world… something that defies description or comprehension. There is a hand I cannot see that plays upon the strings of the world, composing a song of such intricacy and majesty it can only be understood when the last note sounds. We are in the middle of a story, Vid, and we… I… must trust the author of it to right the wrongs in the end. I believe it will be so. To do otherwise is to live life trapped in a meaningless existence of utter futility."

Neither spoke again for long minutes, each caught in private struggle. At last Vid's shoulder's slumped and his whole body seemed to sag under a weight of sorrow that anger had only temporarily held at bay.

"That doesn't change the fact that she's gone."

"No. It doesn't."

"I miss her already, Halvor. I miss her _so_ much!"

His blinding rage gone, Vid stood helpless in his grief, just a boy aching for the mother who would never again kiss away his hurts. Legolas stepped forward and gently pulled Vid to him in a firm embrace. The bereft boy clung to the Elf and cried into his shoulder. Legolas let his own tears flow freely as well.

"I miss her too. Oh! How I miss her too!"

###

"Am I really ready for this?"

Legolas glanced over at the boy become a man standing beside him. The flickering torchlight did not quite reach to where they stood in the shadows of the veranda, but Legolas could still easily see the muscular form of the twenty year old beside him. War paint wrapped its way up lean arms and crisscrossed in intricate designs across his bare, powerfully built torso. Vid's pale blue eyes stood in stark contrast to the dark lines that swirled around his forehead and cheeks. His blonde hair hung to his shoulders, but a leather band held it back in preparation for his coming exertions.

While the young man stood in a relaxed manner as he gazed out over the massive crowd gathered around the bonfire in the center of Vegard's courtyard, his somewhat rapid breathing betrayed his inner tension. Legolas, similarly stripped and painted, placed one hand on Vid's shoulder. The young Northman now stood at the Elf's height, possibly even just a hair's breadth taller. The little boy Legolas had fled with across the prairie had grown up indeed.

"Who ever feels truly ready for the trials of adulthood? Yet I have watched you mature with wisdom and understanding. You are both a skilled warrior and, more importantly, a great man. What we do tonight is simply to show your people the truths that your father and I know already. Tonight you will take your place among the warriors in battle and at your father's side in rule, and the Northmen will find themselves doubly blessed."

Vidugavia flushed at his mentor's praise and clasped hold of the Elf's arm in a firm grasp of his own. The two pairs of blue eyes leapt and danced in the dim firelight. As the roaring chants of the crowd died and the drumbeat began that signaled the beginning of Vid's trials, Legolas flashed a fierce grin which Vid returned.

"Let us show the world how to properly dance the song of the sword!"

Vidugavia hefted his sword and buckler while Legolas readied his preferred pair of matched knives. They saluted each other then sprinted to the center of the clearing as the pounding drums reached their crescendo. Silence fell across the crowd.

Vidugelmi stepped forward. The King of the Northmen had grayed in the years since his wife's death, and sorrow still shadowed the corner of his eyes. Yet dressed in his formal regalia, a thin circlet of gold glimmering about his head, he still made an imposing and regal figure as he addressed the gathering.

"Tonight I present to you my son and heir, Vidugavia. Tonight he proves his worth as a warrior. In time I know he will prove his worthiness as your future leader. Yet I call on all of you - see him and judge for yourselves!"

Vidugelmi stepped back, and at his signal the drums began again, a steady intricate beat that set the blood to pulsing. Vidugavia stepped forward and clashed his hilt against his buckler acknowledging the crowd and calling them to bear witness to his skill. Then he turned and faced off with Legolas who had silently taken his place. Mutters went up from many as they realized Vidugavia's opponent was an Elf. The hum of expectation and anticipation climbed even higher.

At the first clang of steel on steel a shiver ran through the crowd. The duel began slowly- attack, parry, counter-attack -each move flawless in its execution. Then as the drums picked up the tempo, so did the exchange of blows. Around and around the bonfire they battled, increasing the already fearsome pace at each pass.

Soon the two lithe forms wound around each other in a dance of silver fire. A decade of daily practice had honed the two into a matched pair of lethal blades, and the sheer terrifying beauty of the duel took the onlookers' breath away.

At last the drums gave a final, unified beat that resounded through the courtyard, and Legolas leapt back, whirled about, and knelt before Vidugavia with his knife hilts proffered in homage. Both combatants were slick with sweat that gleamed in the moon and torch light, and their chests heaved for breath, but they shared a fierce grin in the absolute hush that had fallen around them. Vidugavia saluted the kneeling Elf with his sword, then turned to the awestruck crowd.

"I, Vidugavia, son of Vidugelmi King of the Northmen, stand before you to claim my place as warrior and heir apparent. Any who wish to challenge that right - step forward now and face me in honorable combat!"

Vidugavia stood proud and defiant before his kinsmen, flushed with the heat of battle. For a moment, not a sound broke the stillness of the night. Then, a single voice cried out.

"Long live Vidugavia, Prince of the Northmen!"

Almost immediately the entire crowd was cheering and chanting with all of their might, shaking their fists and stamping their feet.

"Long live Vidugavia, Prince of the Northmen. Long live the house of Vidugelmi!"

Although he did not join in the wild ruckus of the crowd, Legolas stood and quietly acknowledged his liege-lord with a simple bow of his head. Pride and love mingled within him as he gazed upon the man who had once been a boy on his shoulders. With heartfelt conviction, he added his whisper to the thunderous roar.

"Hail, Vidugavia, Prince of the Northmen. Long may you reign in strength and wisdom indeed."


End file.
